Domestic Tranquility
by steelcrash
Summary: SHIELD Agent Phil Coulson was a BAMF—the Avengers' handler, confidant, the glue holding them together. But nothing could unhinge him like a visit to the family homestead.
1. Chapter 1

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Flying commercial. Agent Phillip Coulson hated it, but he had to keep up appearances. Flying into Cleveland (the flight was late, of course), then the brief discussion with Steve Rogers AKA Captain America, about their rental car. He pointed out he should pick something fun, since they were on vacation. Coulson wasn't going to give in, but the look on Rogers' face made him do it. He couldn't refuse, and Rogers wanted the Mustang GT. He also let Rogers drive. One speeding ticket he was going to have to clean up later.

Now they were pulling up in front of his mother's house in Alliance. Coulson got out of the car, stepping up on the curb, pulling off his sunglasses when a small body hurtled down the front steps and sidewalk nearly knocking him over.

"Hi Emily," he said, hugging the girl. "How's my favorite niece?"

"Fine," she said. "Mom said you probably wouldn't show again this time."

"Your mother and I are going to have another talk," he said.

"Can it wait 'til later?" Emily asked, looking past her uncle at the man climbing out of the car by the curb. "Is that who you said you were bringing with you?"

"Emily, this is Steve," Coulson said as the other man walked up beside him. Emily shook his hand, and walked up to the porch ahead of them.

Rogers noticed the girl was wearing a blue t-shirt with his shield on it, along with baggy khaki cargo shorts and Converse all-stars. He caught Coulson's eye.

"Not related to you at all," he said.

Coulson actually blushed. Then his sister Rachel was at the door, letting them in, trying not to stare at his companion. Tall. Blond. Muscled. Oh so very polite and handsome. Khaki pants, a button-down plaid shirt and a beaten leather jacket. Her brother in his usual black suit, white shirt and tie. (His niece was convinced he was a man in black, and he did not correct her, despite _her_ protests.)

"You were supposed to be here hours ago," Rachel said. "Mom's gone, and I have to be at work in an hour."

"Where's Mom?" Coulson asked, concerned.

"Mom'll be back in a day or two," Rachel said. "I thought you knew. Aunt Hattie had a heart attack, and she went to stay for a couple of days. Mom and I both posted it on Facebook. Didn't you see it?"

"Is she all right?" Coulson asked. "Remember—I do not have an account on Facebook. You could've e-mailed me or called."

"I got busy," Rachel said, "Aunt Hattie's fine. They heart-cathed her two days ago, and she's back home today."

"What about the bakery?"

"The manager and his daughter are taking care of things until Mom comes back, and me and Em have been helping out. I still work two nights at the hospital and two days at the shop," Rachel said. "You and I need to talk."

He followed her into the kitchen, wondering where Rogers and his niece disappeared to, but Rachel started in.

"I hope you didn't get Em anything extravagant for her birthday," she said. "She just turned 12, and doesn't need anything fancy or expensive. The laptop at Christmas was enough. And don't you dare disappoint her again, because I will hurt you in ways you have yet to imagine."

"How many times do I have to apologize?" he asked. Several months before, he'd broken a promise to his niece about coming to visit. At the time, he was recuperating at SHIELD's main medical facility from his wounds received from Loki. "Emily understands, so why can't you?"

"I know you're just a paper-pusher, some low-level government bureaucrat with a chip on his shoulder, but Em thinks you're out saving the world everyday, and I'm not going to ruin it for her," Rachel said. "Next time can you at least call and say you're not coming?"

"I think this has more to do with your disappointment over your ex-husband not meeting your expectations and less to do with Em and what she thinks," he said. "I have responsibilities and I can't just walk away from them."

"I have responsibilities, not like yours, but you don't see me skipping on mine just because it's convenient," Ratchel said.

"Rachel, I get. I'm sorry," Coulson said, hoping he could end the old argument.  
She wasn't paying attention to him—she was looking out in the backyard. He peered out, seeing Rogers and Emily throwing a baseball back and forth.

"Great. I assume he likes baseball?" Rachel asked, pointing outside.

"He does," Coulson said. "Looks like he and Em are hitting it off."

"They should—he's probably not much older than she is," Rachel said. "My God Phil, where did you find him? He's what, 21, 22?"

He couldn't tell her Rogers' actual chronological age was 92, but physically, he appeared 25, the same age as when he was put on ice.

She opened the cabinet, reaching up to get something down, and he noticed the visible bump of her belly, and a baseball came flying through the glass on the back door. Rogers picked that moment to walk in. Rachel caught Phil staring at her mid-section, her eyes wide, knowing he'd figured it out.

"When did this happen? Were you going to tell me?" Coulson asked.

"I was, but when were going to tell us you were shacked up with the hottie here, and one half your age?"

Emily stood beside Rogers, listening to the two argue.

"He's gorgeous in every way imaginable," Rachel said. "And get that look off your face. I'm fine with it. Just surprised. What happened with the cellist?"

"She moved back to Portland," Coulson said.

Rachel snorted. As if that explained anything.

"Does this happen often?" Rogers asked Emily.

"Only when he comes to visit, and it's almost over," she said.

"I can hardly wait to see the look on Mom's face," Rachel said. "Seriously—where did you find him?"

Coulson didn't answer, giving her his best stern we're going to talk later look. The one that usually cowed people like Thor and Stark. Rachel ignored it.

"You can watch Em tonight, can't you, or do you and loverboy have plans?" she asked.

"I would love to watch Emily," Coulson said.

"I figured as much," Rachel said. "Don't keep her up too late."

"I won't," he said.

Rachel gave him a quick hug. "I have to go, or I'll be late for work. See you tomorrow."

Coulson went upstairs and changed into jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers. He was off-duty for two weeks. Home. With his family. Might as well relax. Rogers was downstairs in the kitchen, looking for something to eat, and probably giving the rest of the house a look. With Rachel gone, he'd have a little peace, and a chance to apologize to Emily. He let himself into his niece's room, taking a look around. She was lounging on her bed with a book, but she set it down.

"This was my old room," he said.

"I know. It's why I wanted it," Emily said.

"Pizza, Chinese, or we can grill burgers," he said. "Movies here or the theater?"

"Chinese, movies here," she said, standing, following her uncle downstairs.

"What movie?"  
"'Men in Black'," Emily said.

Her favorite movie. Rogers hadn't seen it yet, so it was going to be an interesting evening. They walked into the living room, where Rogers was sitting on the couch, staring at something on the coffee table.

The SHIELD agent recognized the source of his friends' distress.

"What is this doing here?" Coulson asked, picking up the hefty book.

"It was one of my birthday presents from Mom," Emily said. "She said I should read something 'normal.' She was a little angry when she caught me reading 'I Am Legend.' The real one, not the one they wrote with Will Smith in it."

"What did she get you for your birthday?" Coulson said.

"Books and clothes," Emily answered.

"Some decent books, I hope," he said.

Emily shrugged.

Unfortunately, he was familiar with the book series. Agents Hill, Barton and Romanoff had read the Twilight books. Hill and Barton couldn't get enough of them. Romanoff preferred the movies to the books. He couldn't stand the books, but he'd only read the first one while recuperating. He was humoring his fellow agents, but God, it was awful. Then Rogers got a hold of it, read the first few chapters and well, Coulson wasn't supposed to know about what happened next. Rogers, along with Banner and Stark, had a nice little bonfire going in the lab until the fire suppression system kicked in.

Coulson and Romanoff had spent an evening together a few days later, eating popcorn and watching the surveillance tape over and over again while he was recuperating. The footage of Barton screaming "no," pounding on the lab door as his books burned and sliding down the wall while sobbing was still a fond memory.

But reality snapped back into focus from the warm fuzzies when Rogers snatched the book from his hand, started rummaging around on the bookshelves for more by the same author. Emily grinned when she figured out what he was doing. She ran upstairs, returning a few minutes later with the rest of her copies of the series, and her mother's. Rogers had her grandmother's copies in his arms. She followed him outside, across the backyard and into the alley. He tossed the books into the dumpster, and she threw hers in. He produced some matches from his pocket and threw them in after the books.

"Hardly appropriate for a kid your age," Rogers said. "C'mon. We got you some books I hope you'll like."

Coulson had gone a little extravagant with the gifts—an Ipad and a new cell phone just because he could. And Em seemed to appreciate the books from Rogers. He'd given her "The Hunger Games," "Tom Sawyer," and a book each by Arthur Conan Doyle and Jules Verne.

"Mom's gonna flip when she sees the new phone," Emily said, "She took away my old one."

She didn't tell him it was because her mom caught her answering her phone just like her uncle-"Coulson here." Her last name was hyphenated, Tyler-Coulson, a gift from her absent father, but she didn't like it. She was a Coulson, so she was going to call herself a Coulson. Besides, Emily was convinced her Uncle Phillip was a real-life man in black. His suit, the way he talked and acted, how he _didn't_ talk about his work, he was away all the time, and sometimes didn't make it when he said he would. She figured he had an important job, and couldn't come.

"What about the Ipad?" he asked.

"It'll keep me from stealing her Kindle," Emily said, settling in on the couch next to her uncle to watch movies.

Everything was fine. Going well. Peaceful. Rogers wasn't hiding behind the couch like he figured he would because of the movies. He'd faced combat in World War II, stood up to Fury, Stark, the Hulk, fought the Chitauri and a god from another realm, but some modern movies creeped him out. Instead, Rogers was enjoying himself. Coulson was too, until his cell phone rang.

"Coulson here," he said, checking the number. Banner. What the hell did he want?

"It's Loki," Banner said.

"What about Loki?" Coulson asked. Rogers blanched.

"She's not eating. I was wondering if you want me to take her to the vet?"

"Do whatever is necessary," Coulson said through gritted teeth. Emily was looking at him, biting her lip. She wasn't stupid.

"Loki, huh?" she asked as he pocketed his phone.

"Loki is my cat," he said.

Loki, or as Fury called her, "that damn ball of fuzz," was a gift from Stark. The cat was a black Scottish Fold. She didn't come with a name, but Thor started calling her "Loki" because he thought she was a trickster after the kitten ran up Fury's leg more than once, and the name stuck. Ironic, considering. Technically, the animal was his, but she was Avengers communal property, their four-legged mascot. The damn thing even had a collar with a tag emblazoned with the SHIELD logo, a gift from Hill. Loke split her time between Potts (when he or Rogers weren't around), the lab, and the helicarrier.

"You have a cat, named Loki. Like the guy who tore up New York earlier this year," Emily said. "I thought you didn't like cats."

"It's not like I had any choice in the matter," Coulson muttered.

The color was coming back to Rogers' face, and Coulson was counting backward from 10. He hoped the call about the cat was not a precursor to any events involving the cat's Asgardian namesake.

Author's note: I don't really dislike "Twilight." I could just see certain of the members of the Avengers having a violent reaction to the books.


	2. Chapter 2

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Saturday morning. Rachel was asleep, they'd dropped Em off at her dance class, and Coulson and Rogers were going by Home Depot to pick up the stuff to fix the broken backdoor window. They walked in the doors, but Coulson started backing up, turning around, trying to take Rogers with him.

"Turn around. Let's go. Now."

He grabbed Rogers, was dragging him outside when he heard a voice, and he winced, turning around, forcing a smile on his face.

"Phillip Coulson? Is that you?"

He wanted to say no, ma'am, you're mistaken and leave, but Rogers was giving him a disapproving look. He sighed.

"Hi Marsha. How are you?" Coulson asked.

"Oh, you know, same old, same old," the woman said. "I should come by your mother's house and we can catch up."

"Can't wait," he said through gritted teeth, watching her leave.

Rogers was looking at him, one eyebrow raised, his interest piqued.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"One of my old high school classmates," Coulson said. "And if she stops by the house, I am sneaking out the back."

"That's rude," Rogers said.

"She's an unrepentant gossip and. . .not very nice," he said, avoiding using language he should not call a woman. "Let's get what we need."

They were packing the glass and wood into the trunk of the car when Coulson's cell phone rang—he checked the number, Emily.

"My dance class is out early. I need you to come pick me up."

Except when he got to the studio, he found one of the teachers waiting outside with his niece, and she waited until the girl was in the car to explain what really happened. Coulson listened as the woman told him his niece hit one of the other girls, and it was unprovoked and said Emily wasn't welcome anymore.

Coulson got into the car, put on his seatbelt, started up the engine, looking back at his niece's reflection in the rearview mirror.

"Want to tell me what that was all about?" he asked.

"Not really," Emily said.

"Was it uprovoked?"

"She started it," Emily said.

"Who started what?"

"Mrs. Dobson's daughter," Emily said. "You know her—the lady you went to school with."

Son of a bitch. Funny, seeing Marsha Dobson, and his niece was the same age as her daughter.

"Emily, did you hit her first?" Coulson asked.

"She called me names," Emily said. "And said some other stuff that wasn't very nice, so I hit her. Just like you showed me. Her nose made a crunchy noise, and there was blood everywhere."

Great. She'd probably broken the other kid's nose. Rachel was going to kill him, and no telling what she'd say to Emily. He sighed.

"Let's go get some lunch, and we'll worry about this later," he said.

The meal was a mostly silent affair, and neither Rogers or Emily complained when he suggested a trip to a nearby book store. Rogers loved books, and looking through the shelves would give Emily something to do for a while, and buy him time to think of something to tell his sister. He knew she'd pin the blame for the incident on him. She'd find a way. Except he got busy going through the messages on his phone, e-mailing Stark a terse message about how Loki was fine staying with Banner, and no, the animal was not their baby, and it was fine without them for a few days.

Coulson hit the "send" button, and heard footsteps behind him.

"You're on vacation," Rogers said. "Does your phone need to have an accident?"

"No," Coulson said.

"Where's Emily?" Rogers asked.

"In the astronomy section, trying to figure out where the Chitauri came from," Coulson answered.

"Like I said, not related to you at all," Rogers said.

They went and collected the girl. Coulson bought the astronomy book for her, and then Emily was grabbing his hand, pulling him toward Starbuck's. Unfortunately, it was Happy Hour. Half-price Frappuccinos. He watched Rogers down three of the largest size, Emily consumed two and he had only one. Then he was looking at his watch, almost 4 p.m., and Rachel would be up and wondering where they were, and the back door still wasn't fixed.

Pulling up to the curb in front of the house, Coulson looked up at the porch. Rachel was outside, talking to someone. When he discerned their identity, he almost drove away, but it was the coward's way out, and he was not a coward. Marsha Dobson's mother was on the porch, and Rachel was glaring his way, looking murderous.

He ignored it as they unloaded the car, and kept Emily close as he tried to maneuver past the nosy neighbor to get into the house.

"Hi Mrs. Pratt," he said. "Mom'll be home later. Rachel's got to get ready for work, I've got some stuff to do around the house. See you."

He shouldered past the woman, Rogers following, and he counted back from 10 as the door slammed behind them, and he locked it.

"Em, call the police if she comes back," he said.

"What do I tell them this time?"

"Make up something," he said.

"She was peeking in the windows a few weeks ago," she said. "Mom didn't believe me. Gram did, though. I do have pictures of her standing in the alley behind the house with binoculars last month."

"How did you get those?"

"Hiding up on the deck with my telescope," she said. "Gram let me hook her camera up to take pictures of the moon, and I was out setting everything up when I saw her out in the alley. Want to see?"

"Sure," he said. Emily shot up the stairs.

Rachel still hadn't said anything, and was still glaring at him.

"What?" Coulson asked.

"Were you going to tell me?"

"That Emily had a spat with another kid and it's over now?"

"She bloodied the other girl's nose," Rachel said. "Who gave her the idea it was acceptable to use violence to settle an argument?"

"Get ready for work," Coulson said. "I have a door to fix. We can talk about this tomorrow."

Rachel stomped off, and again, he ignored it, going into the kitchen, Rogers following, setting down their supplies.

"Are you going to recruit that kid when she's old enough?"

"Hopefully," Coulson said. "She can intern at 17, but she's exceptional enough, and Fury owes me, so I'll see what I can do when she turns 16."

"Stark'll have a fit when he finds out there's another one of you," he said. "But do you really want her living that kind of life?"

"The choice will be hers," Coulson said.

"Why do I get the feeling your sister won't like it?"  
"Rachel doesn't like a lot of things," Coulson said.

"Like violence?" Rogers asked.

"She thinks conflict can always be settled by talking things out, unfortunately, she doesn't like to think that Em is being bullied," he said. "She's small for her size, smart, and not like the other kids. I know what she's going through."

"You're not the only one," Rogers said.

88888

Darkness was falling, and they were sitting out on the deck, talking. Emily was pointing out her favorite constellations, and still talking about the alien invaders that hit New York. She also mentioned the Avengers. More than once. She was hitting a little too close to home, so Coulson decided to change the subject.

"Em, want to tell me what happened today? I'm only going to ask once," he said.

"Tara said I was a freak, that my family was weird and Mom was. . .uh, I can't repeat it," she said. "Rhymes with 'witch.'"

"Consider the source," Coulson said. "I believe you."

"I don't think Mom will," Emily said.

"She fails to recognize the caliber of people we're dealing with here," Coulson said. He was going to say more, but his phone rang. Fury. Showing the phone to Rogers, he went inside, leaving Emily and Rogers alone.

Emily went back to her telescope, putting the dew cover over equipment, then took her uncle's seat.

"Are you really dating my uncle?" she asked.

"Yes," Rogers answered. Honesty was best. Then he remembered he was talking to a kid, and a girl at that.

"It's cool. A couple of my classmates have two dads, and another has two moms, so I'm OK with it," Emily said.

"And you don't have a dad," Rogers said.

"I do, I just never see him," she said. "Not much anyway. I'm supposed to go spend a couple of weeks with him this summer, like I always do." Two weeks in California, while he was mostly gone, and she was left spending time with her step-mother, swimming and hiking.

"That's too bad you don't get to see him," Rogers said.

"Oh well," Emily said, shrugging. "I'd rather spend time with Mom and Gram and Uncle Phil when he gets to visit. It's never dull when he's here."

"Why is that?" Rogers asked, curious. Coulson was usually so confident and in control, but barely a day home, and his control was slipping.

"You'll just have to find out," Emily said.

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Sunday morning. 7 a.m. Rogers was up, eating a bowl of cereal, relaxing on the couch, watching cartoons. He was bare-footed, in pajama pants and an Army t-shirt, watching cartoons. He enjoyed Looney Toons. Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny were something familiar. Hearing the front door open, he sat up, seeing Rachel walking in, locking the door behind her.

"What are you doing up?" she asked.

"Habit," he said. "Part of my routine. Can't kick it even when I'm off duty."

"You're in the Army?" she asked, pointing at his shirt.

"I was," he said. "Still in the same line of work, though."

"And that is?"

"Keeping people safe." An ambiguous answer.

"So are you a cop? Firefighter? Still in the Army? FBI? CIA?"

"None of the above," Rogers said.

"If you tell me, you'll have to kill me, right?" Ratchel said.

"Something like that," Rogers said.

"How did you meet my brother?"

"Through work," Rogers said.

"How did someone like you ever cross paths with my brother? Don't get me wrong—I love Phil, but sometimes. . ." Rachel said.

"He's a good man," Rogers said.

"I never said he wasn't," Rachel said. "Sometime's he's an ass, and he needs to be reminded of it."

She did have a point. Coulson was a badass, as Stark pointed out, but he could be a little. . .overbearing sometimes.

"Rough night at work?" he asked, changing the subject.

"You have no idea," she said. "Good night, or morning, or whatever."

88888

Coulson was sitting out on the deck again, this time, Sunday afternoon. He was drinking a beer, Rachel had tea, and they were trying to enjoy each other's company. Emily was inside, playing video games with Rogers, and Coulson wondered how well that was going. He looked over at Rachel, who was rubbing her belly.

"So, who's the father?" he asked.

"His name is Kelly, and he's a firefighter," Rachel said. "We're not seeing each other anymore."

"Is that a good thing?"

"It most definitely is," Ratchel said. "And I didn't mean to get pregnant."

"There are ways to prevent that, you know," he said, taking a pull off his beer. "Do you know what it is yet?"

"A girl," she said. "I've already got a name picked out. . .well, Em helped a little. She picked the first name."

"Are you going to tell me the name or not?" Coulson asked.

"It's a surprise," Rachel said.

He snorted.

"What? It's a good name," Rachel said. "You'll just have to wait a while."

"How far along are you?"

"Nineteen weeks," Rachel said. "You better be there when I deliver this kid. You missed Emily's birth, and I want you there this time. Jackass."

"No promises, Rachel," he said. "I'll be there if I can."

"Better than a promise you can't keep," Rachel said. "Hey—did Emily really have pictures of Mrs. Pratt spying on the house?"

"She showed them to me yesterday," Coulson said.

"Huh. I owe her an apology," Rachel said. "But this doesn't mean you're right about Pratt. I still think about what you said to her last Christmas. Mom was not impressed."

"I know that," he said.

"I didn't tell her about the cotton ball incident, though," Rachel said. "I know that was you. Had to be."

Christmas morning, Mrs. Pratt and other members of their household had awoken to find her personal vehicle and several others vandalized. No permanent damage was done, unfortunately. Just another battle in the psychological warfare he was waging on the damn neighbor. He'd dipped cotton balls in water, then applied them to the windshield of the neighbor's car. He'd only been able to cover the windshield, front windows and headlights of her car because the weather was terrible that night.

He said nothing.

"Hey, you never answered my question about where you found captain fantastic," Rachel said. "He told me you met through work."

"It's true," Coulson said.

"What does he do?"

"Stuff," Coulson said. "And he does have a name."

"I know," Rachel said. "He's do damn polite and well behaved."

"He was home-schooled," Coulson said.

"Uh huh," Rachel said. "C'mon. Let's go inside. I'm hungry."

Coulson followed his sister inside, walking into her when they got to the living room. Rachel whipped out her cell phone, starting to film her daughter and Rogers, who were playing a dance game on the Wii.

"Send me that, will you?" Coulson said.

"I will," Rachel said.


	3. Chapter 3

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

6 a.m. on a Monday morning. Coulson's internal clock would not let him sleep in, and Rogers wasn't exactly quiet as he was getting up and around.

Coulson sat up in bed. "Wake up Rachel and I can't protect you," he said.

"I have no doubt about that," Rogers said. "I'm going for a run. I'll let you sleep an hour, then I'm coming back by and you're going with me."

"Joy," Coulson said, flopping back down.

"See you in an hour," Rogers said, letting himself out of the room.

Coulson sat back up when he was gone, threw off the covers, going downstairs to the kitchen. He was not going on one of Rogers' forced marches without orange juice or something similar. He was standing in front of the fridge, door open, when he felt someone tapping him on the shoulder.

Coulson turned around, and Rachel was looking at him, concern in her eyes, whatever she was going to say forgotten. Then she was staring at his chest. She turned him around, looking at his back, then let him go. He crossed his arms.

"What the hell happened to you? That scar is new," she said.

"There was an. . .accident," Coulson said.

"Accident, my ass. Tell me the truth. What happened? When?"

"Several months ago," he said. That was all he was saying. He wasn't going to talk about it. Ever.

"I'm an ER nurse. I see crap like this all the time, and from the looks of this, you're lucky to be alive," Rachel said.

"I'm here, and that's all that matters," Coulson said. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Changing the subject is not getting you off the hook about this," Rachel said. "We will finish this discussion later and damn it, you are going to tell me the truth."

"It's over and done, and it's none of your business," Coulson said.

"Phillip Riley Coulson, we are just getting started," Rachel said. "Do not try my patience. I know where Mom hid her taser and don't forget you taught me how to use it."

"You wouldn't," Coulson said.

"Wanna bet?" Rachel said, shoving past him to get to the fridge.

"I'm hungry, but since you're up too, I'll make something for breakfast," Rachel said.

"Hopefully something more substantial than tofu," Coulson said. "I hope you're done with the health food phase. Steve eats a lot."

"I'll fix pancakes," Rachel said. "Go put on a shirt. I do not want Em seeing that scar."

"I'm going for a run with Steve," Coulson said.

"Have fun," Rachel said.

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Rogers' idea of a run was more like a marathon. Distance, speed, it didn't make much of a difference to him because he was the pinnacle of human strength and endurance. But he did take into account he was running with a "normal" human, and one who was shorter also. One nice thing about Rogers—he never, ever forgot how he used to be.

They were in the cooling down stage of the run, a few blocks from the house.

"Rachel saw my scar," Coulson said.

Rogers stopped in his tracks. "What? Did you tell her what happened?"

"I told her there was an accident, and she wouldn't take the hint and drop it," Coulson said.

"Don't you think she deserves the truth, or some form of it?" Rogers asked. "You can make something up. You're good at it. You do it all the time."

It made perfect sense. He was good at it, but this was family. He wasn't going to lie. Withholding the truth was a completely different matter.

"I'll think of something," Coulson said as they entered the house, Rogers making for the kitchen when he smelled food. He was helping Rachel set the table when Coulson finally made it inside. Emily was already at the table, poring over her astronomy book.

"I wonder what aliens really look like," she said. "What do you think, Uncle Phillip?"

"I don't know," he said, sitting down. And then he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. "Coulson. . ."

"Hey, Phil."

Damn, it was Stark.

"What do you want? I told you not to call, I'm on vacation."

"I'm sending you something you'll want to see," Stark answered. "While you're on vacation, we decided Loki could use a little downtime, too."

"Who is 'we?'" Coulson said.

"Banner and I," Stark said. "Gotta go. Enjoy the pictures."

The call ended, and he had a photo message on his phone. Several, actually. The first was photo of Loki the cat sitting in Director Fury's chair. In his office. The second was Loki on the bridge of the helicarrier, staring out the windows. The third was of the cat in Banner's lab, looking at a computer screen.

"Phil, put down your phone," Rachel said. "Eat."

He gave her a dirty look, sitting down at the table, setting his phone down beside his plate. Rogers was already tucking into a huge stack of pancakes.

"Muscles, slow down, or you're going to choke," Rachel said, watching him shovel in the food. Usually Rogers had better manners, but so much travel meant little chance for a home-cooked meal.

"Yes ma'am," he said, slowing down.

"Hey Phil—I almost forgot to tell you," Rachel said. "Mom found a bunch of your old Captain America comics and stuff out in the garage a while back."

Rogers choked.

"What did you do with it?" Coulson asked, suspicious.

"Threw it away, what else?" Rachel said.

"_What_?"

Rachel laughed. "Got you. It's up in Em's room. I thought you two could go through it together. Seriously, though, I thought you were over all that."

"I still have a deck of vintage cards," Coulson said, catching Rogers' eye.

"You still need those signed, don't you?" Rogers asked.

Em frowned, but went back to her astronomy book. Something was going on. She just needed to figure it out.

"Signed by who?" Rachel asked.

"The artist," Rogers said. "The man who drew some of them. I think he's still alive."

"God, if he is, Phil would've found him by now," Rachel said. "He was obsessed with Captain America when he was a kid, and he's got Em hooked now. The Avengers. . really, Captain America? Where did they find those people? At least the one with the hammer is kind of cute."

"Phil can be very devoted to what he sees as a worthy cause," Rogers offered.

"Devotion? No way. This was full-on fanboy obsession," Rachel said. "I'm not the one that hot-wired Dad's car at 15 and took a joyride to Cleveland to see a display of World War II memorabilia including some Captain America stuff. Obsessed much?"

Coulson blushed red, matching the shade of his Ohio Buckeyes shirt. He glared at his sister. Two could play this game.

"Who ran away a couple of years later to go to a U2 concert?" Coulson asked.

"Remember who taught me to hot-wire a car?" Rachel countered. "And Dad went easy on me because he thought you helped, and were corrupting your poor, innocent little sister. I had a crush on Bono, but I grew out of it."

"Who dragged who to a U2 concert two years ago?"

"You enjoyed that, and you know it," Rachel said. "I did like the Eagles. We need to do that again sometime."

"What's a Bono?" Rogers asked. "And I'd like to hear more about his uh, obsession."

"Cupcake, help me with the dishes and you can hear all about it," Rachel said.

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Phil's hottie was helping her with the dishes. Phil helped with the dishes sometimes. Rachel had only ever seen two males on the planet help with domestic chores, and both were in her immediate family—her father and Phil. Phil mainly because it was expected, but the Boy Scout was drying while she washed.

"Ma'am, I can do this. You shouldn't be on your feet," he said.

"Are you for real? And why shouldn't I be on my feet?"

"You're pregnant," he said. "And I do know how to wash dishes. You sit and talk, and I'll do this."

He scooted her toward a chair at the table. Shrugging, Rachel sat down. Huh. Phil forgot his phone. . .

"You said Phil was obsessed?" Rogers asked.

"Oh God, you have no idea. . .he read everything he could get his hands on, comic books, history books, the encyclopedia. . .one summer I thought the head librarian at the library was going to put together a lynch mob," Rachel said.

"That bad?"  
"You have no idea" she said. "But that's enough about Phil's little obsession. What about you?"

"I don't have many obsessions, ma'am," Rogers said.

"I'm not talking about that, and don't call me ma'am," Rachel said. "I know it's respectful, but call me Rachel. Family? Do you like your job?"

"I don't any family left," Rogers said. "My dad died when I was little, and my mom when I was 16."

"I'm sorry," Rachel said.

"Thank you," he said. "But that was a long time ago."

Rachel frowned. Weird.

"Went to art school, joined the Army, and here I am," Rogers said.

"And now you're with my brother," Rachel said. "How did that happen? Have any serious relationships before that?"

Coulson's sister was one pushy lady. She would've made an excellent SHIELD agent, also.

"One, but it didn't last long. It didn't even stand much of a chance," Rogers said. "I wish I could say I lost her, but she lost me."

"You're not making any sense," Rachel said, picking up Phil's phone.

"Time, distance, circumstance," Rogers said. "Things neither of us had any control over."

"Sounds like Phil's luck," Rachel said. "Except answer me this—you were with a girl, I thought Phil was straight as an arrow, but. . ."

"Why are we together?"

"Yeah," Rachel said.

"It's him—just him," Rogers said, as if that explained everything.

"Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad he has you," Rachel said, scrolling through the pictures on her brother's phone. She felt a little guilty, being nosy, but she'd caught him going through her phone more than once, like it was OK. She never touched his phone because he wasn't absent-minded with his.

And oh hell, Phil was back in the kitchen, showered and changed and murder in his eyes. Except she was looking at one of the pictures, and couldn't believe her eyes.

"Why are there pictures of what looks like Tony Stark on your phone?" She looked closer. It was Tony Stark. With her brother. And a guy who looked like a surfer or from a rock band. Long blond hair and muscles.

Coulson snatched the phone back.

Rogers was giving him a look. Arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in interest. Coulson was coming unglued. Unflappable, stoic, brave steady Coulson, the Avengers' touchstone. A little disturbing and endearing a the same time. The man was always so in control and confident. Not so much now.

"Albuquerque. Last month," Coulson said more at Rogers than his sister.

Oh. That explained it. The incident with the Bilgesnipe.

"You met Tony Stark and you weren't going to tell me?" Rachel said. "He's famous. . ."

"He's also overconfident, obnoxious and more than a little crazy," Coulson said.

"Sounds like somebody I know," Rachel said, standing. "I have to get to the bakery. Don't burn down the house or anything while I'm gone."

Coulson waited until she was gone, then laid into Rogers. "Why the hell did you let her touch my phone?"

"I didn't see it," Rogers said.

"Enhanced senses and you can't keep something important out of my sister's hands?"

"I was doing the dishes," Rogers said.

"I can see that," Coulson said.

"Speaking of Stark, your sister kind of reminds me of him," Rogers said. "At least the part with the name-calling. Or maybe it's just that I'm not used to the objectification and demeaning language from a woman. Are you sure you're not related to Stark?"

"No way in hell," Coulson said.

Rogers grinned. Coulson's veneer was cracking further. "I was thinking. . .your sister is a nurse, and Banner is a doctor, so maybe someone could set them up on a date?"

Coulson frowned, then his jaw dropped. He blinked, like he couldn't believe the words coming out of Rogers' mouth.

"Seriously, it's a good idea," Rogers said.

"You're kidding, right? Please tell me you're kidding," Coulson said.

"I am," Rogers said. "But think about it—if he didn't have the anger management issues, it would be a nice match."

"The other guy would be no match for my sister," Coulson said.

"No kidding," Rogers said.

"And just how much did my sister embarrass me?"

"Not quite enough yet," Rogers said. "We haven't finished that discussion."

Coulson sighed. It looked like Rachel had unfinished business with Rogers, too.


	4. Chapter 4

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Rogers disappeared on Coulson, going to shower and change. Rachel left a list of chores for him to do, and he ripped it to shreds after committing it to memory. He started the laundry, went and picked up the drycleaning and dropped off Emily at a friend's house, where she was spending the night. Rachel was going to be at the bakery until at least 6 p.m., leaving him and Rogers with most of the day to themselves. Alone.

Coulson walked through the house, Rogers wasn't inside. He found him out on the deck, in his usual khakis and a t-shirt, bare foot propped up on the deck railing, sketching.

"I was wondering where you were," Coulson said, sitting down next to Rogers, throwing an arm across the other man's shoulders. He looked at the drawing Rogers was working on—a sketch of Thor throwing Mjolnir at a Bilgesnipe.

"Very good, but we need to discuss your security clearance and non-disclosure agreements," Coulson said.

""I embellished a little," Rogers said.

"Thor killed one, and it took Stark and I using several of the Phase II weapons to kill the other," Coulson said.

"I read the report," Rogers said. "My security clearance is as high as yours, and I never signed a non-disclosure agreement. Those came after my time."

"We can make it retroactive to when you joined the Army," Coulson said.

"You can't do that," Rogers said.

"Watch me," Coulson said. Then he noticed the t-shirt Rogers was wearing—it said "Property of Stark Industries."

"Where did you get this shirt?" Coulson asked.

"Stark gave it to me," Rogers said, setting aside the sketchbook. "He said he was going to have his legal department contact SHIELD about who really owned the name Captain America."

"Take it off," Coulson said.

"Make me," Rogers countered, grinning. He kissed Coulson, shoving the smaller man down, but he wrestled out of his grip, sliding his hands under the hem of the shirt and up Rogers' back, trying to pull the shirt off him. Rogers broke away long enough to finish taking off the shirt, kissing Coulson again. Trailing kisses along the other man's jaw, up to his ear.

"We need to get past second base," Rogers whispered.

With work and travel, alien and terrorist attacks, the usual crisis of the moment, they didn't ever have much time alone together. Coupling that with Rogers' reserved nature and shyness and relative inexperience when it came to the physical aspects of their relationship, his taking the initiative almost never happened. That was Coulson's last coherent thought before he laid a searing kiss on Rogers' lips. But Rogers stiffened, breaking away, and he wasn't looking at him anymore. Coulson followed the other man's gaze. Mrs. Pratt was staring over the gate at them. He suddenly found himself on his ass on the deck as Rogers grabbed his shirt, stuffing it in the waistband of his pants, snatched up his sketchbook, hugging it to his bare chest, backing up to the kitchen door. Coulson noted Rogers was an interesting shade of red.

"Phillip, is your sister home? I want to talk to her," the woman shouted.

"Rachel is not home," Coulson said, picking himself up off the deck. "If you want to talk to her, call."

"Can you have her call me? It's about what happened Saturday with the girls," Mrs. Pratt shouted.

"I'll pass on the message."

He turned around, swearing. Rogers blushed even redder, not fighting as Coulson grabbed him by the arm, hauling him inside the house.

"I can't believe that woman," Rogers said.

"Believe it," Coulson said. "We're going to do something about this."

Another trip to Home Depot, and they spent the rest of the afternoon replacing the gate with a taller one, and fixing holes in the backyard fence. Then it was almost dinner time and Rogers hadn't a word the entire afternoon, just helping him fix the fence. They finished up, and Rogers went inside while Coulson put the tools away in the garage. He looked around. It needed cleaning up. Another item on Rachel's list, he noted, going inside.

And Rogers walked downstairs, in a t-shirt and sweat pants. He leaned down, touching his forehead to Coulson's.  
"I'm sorry about this afternoon," Rogers said.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Coulson said. Another quick kiss, and they noticed Rachel, who was standing at the bottom, clearing her throat.

"Get cleaned up. I'm ordering dinner. Then we're going to watch movies," she said.

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Coulson heard Rachel on the phone in the kitchen, and he sat down on the couch beside Rogers, who was drawing again. Several sketches were laid out on the coffee table in front of them—Natasha and Clint standing together, sharing a moment. Another of a Chitauri without its facial armor, one more of a sky whale coming through the portal.

"You better put those away," Coulson said as Rachel entered the room. Rogers did as he was told, leaving out only the one of the Chitauri.

"That's for Emily," he said. "She wanted to know what an alien looks like, so there one is."

"Don't you mean what you think an alien looks like?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah," Rogers said.

Rachel sat down in an armchair. "I just got off the phone with Mrs. Pratt," she said. "She wanted to talk to me about what happened with Emily and her granddaughter Saturday. She also asked if I knew what you were up to today. What the hell did she mean by that?"  
Rogers blushed, and Coulson sighed.

"We were out on the deck, and we caught her spying on us," he said.

"Why the hell was she spying?" Rachel said.

"We were uh, getting frisky," Rogers said. "She had no right. . ."

"The old bat got an eyeful of you two making out?" Rachel asked.

"Yes," Coulson said.

"You should have tased her," Rachel said. "What do you boys want to watch?"

"Anything but one of your chick flicks," Coulson said.

"And I don't want to see an action movie," Rachel said. "Cupcake, what do you like?"

"Ma'am," Rogers said.

"All right, Steve, what kind of movies do you like?"

"I watch a lot of classic movies," Rogers said. "Turner Classic Movies."

"Like what?"

"Black and white movies, Rachel. Old movies. Movies with actual plots and acting and storytelling, not like Twilight," Coulson said.

She flipped him the bird. Coulson ignored it, and Rogers sighed.

"Why don't you each pick a movie?" he suggested. He couldn't even catch a break on vacation from having to settle disputes.

"Sixteen Candles," Rachel said. "Have you seen that, Steve?"

"No."

"It's a classic," Rachel said.

"Sixteen Candles' is not a classic," Coulson said.

"Shut up," Rachel said. "I know where Em hid your box of old junk, and I can arrange for it to have an accident."

Coulson didn't get a chance to fire back because his phone buzzed. "Coulson. . .no Sitwell, I don't know why the consultant would be shooting Fury in the head with suction darts. He has a deathwish. That's why. Do something about it. Where's Hill? The infirmary? Why? For Christ's sake. . . I'm on vacation. . . He WHAT? Droids? He didn't have his ID card? How much did he have to drink. . .Where the hell is Banner and. . .No. He stuck an inflatable sheep where? Sitwell, you're a grown man. Take care of the problem."

He ended the call, and Rachel was staring at him, confused, and Rogers was trying not to laugh.

"Rachel, do not ask," Coulson said.

"I wasn't going to," she said. "That sounded more fun than my day."

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	5. Chapter 5

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

6 a.m. Rachel snuck into the room Phil and Steve were sharing. She almost didn't want do disturb them—they were both out cold, spooned together on one side of the bed. She squinted, peering at Phil's face. He was smiling. In his sleep. Huh. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, snapping a shot, hoping the flash wouldn't wake them up. Well, she knew from experience it took a little more than that to wake her brother.

She was tempting fate, waking two ex-soldiers. She had learned the hard way how not to wake Phil during his rare leave time while he was enlisted in the Army. The subtle approach was best. Rachel pulled the covers back over their feet, emptying her container of frozen marbles into the bed. She left the room, shutting the door behind her, waiting. She grinned hearing the muffled 'what the hell?' then the door opened, and she was greeted by the sight of an angry Phil, and a bleery-eyed Steve behind him.

"What the hell is wrong with you? It's 6 a.m." Coulson said.

"I thought you were going for a run again this morning," Rachel said.

"Not after you kept me up until 3 watching movies," Coulson said.

"What about you cupcake, going for that run?" Rachel asked.

"I'm going back to bed," he said.

"If you want breakfast, you'll be down in a little bit," she said. "I have to be at the bakery again today, so if you want a hot meal, you'll come downstairs. And Phil, I want that list completed. Don't worry about picking up Em from softball camp—Allie's mom will drop her off when it's over. You need to clean the garage."

Rachel reached up, mussing her brother's hair, and blew him a kiss, leaving them alone. Coulson started after her, but Rogers grabbed him, pulling him back into his arms, resting his chin on the other man's shoulder.

"She means well," Rogers said.

"She's out of control," Coulson said. "That wasn't just to get us up this morning—that was a wake-up call. We need a plan of attack. We need to talk someplace private."

Five minutes later, they were in the bathroom, door locked, Coulson sitting on the edge of the tub, Rogers leaning against the door, arms crossed. Coulson turned the water on, hoping Rachel would take the hint and leave them alone if she came back upstairs.

"You're paranoid," Rogers said. "It was a harmless prank."

"Harmless prank number 1 quickly escalates into an all-out war," Coulson said. "I even locked the bedroom door as a deterrent."

"How did she get in?"

"She picked the lock," Coulson said.

"Just another skill you taught your sister?"

"Yes," Coulson said.

"Along with hot-wiring a car?"

"It's been a useful skill," Coulson said. "How many times have I had to procure transportation when no one else is thinking about it?"

Rogers let it slide. A distraction was necessary.

"What was that all about last night? What did Stark do?"

"I take it you understood the reference to the inflatable sheep?" Coulson asked.

"Banner explained the sheep thing to me," Rogers said. "Stark's mind is in the gutter."

Then Rachel was pounding on the door, yelling. "Breakfast is in five or I'm throwing it over the fence for the neighbor's dog."

"Welcome to the 21st century," Coulson muttered.

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They ate, and she left. Then they went back to bed. Rogers watching cartoons on his Ipad while Coulson talked. Not a bad way to spend a morning, Rogers reflected. Just spending time together was a rarity. They had two weeks to themselves. Fury had planned on giving them more time, but Coulson had argued with their boss it wasn't necessary. Rogers knew the time off was Fury's gift to them—a small thank-you for the sacrifices the two had made, both personally and professionally over the past six months. That and Coulson needed some downtime in a bad way. Rogers had orders to get Coulson to relax and get his mind off work, but his mind was never off work. The man's personal and professional lives were so intertwined now there was no separating them. Rogers figured it had been that way for sometime, but adding their relationship to the mix complicated things further, or simplified it, from Stark's point of view.

Rogers and Coulson were together, committed. They worked and fought side by side and even lived together, sharing a new apartment in Stark's tower, which was quickly becoming a base of operations for both SHIELD and the Avengers. Brothers in arms, comrades, sharing a bond transcending friendship, but not quite where it needed to be yet. They had an understanding, unspoken. Not exactly what he imagined for himself, but it was enough.

And of course, there was only so much idleness Coulson could take. Rogers watched him as he dressed, setting aside his Ipad.  
"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I have to clean the garage," Coulson said.

"I'll help," Rogers said. "Least I can do. Not like there's anything else to do. . ."

He was silenced with a kiss.

"Yeah, that too," Rogers stammered.

"Gotta round those bases sometime," Coulson said. "When you're ready."

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Rogers watched as Coulson opened the garage door. His eyes widened when he saw how much stuff was piled inside.

"She wants this done in one day?" Rogers asked.

"Good thing you're here," Coulson said, giving his partner a rare smile.

"How long has it been since this place was cleaned out?" Rogers asked.

"Probably since my dad died six years ago," Coulson said. "My mother and sister aren't very practical when it comes to the actual use for a garage. They think it's extra storage space, not for a vehicle."

"The house is spic and span," Rogers said

"My mother is obsessive-compulsive when it comes to cleaning," Coulson said.

"Then why isn't this clean?" Rogers said pointing.

"She doesn't live in the garage," Coulson said.

They worked several hours, and Coulson was packing yet another box outside when he saw Rogers half-heartedly going through what looked like a box of old newspaper clippings. He set his box down, going over to the other man.

"What is it?" he asked.

Rogers held out some of the clippings and what looked like a letter. Coulson took it—a letter from his grandmother to his grandfather while he was serving in the Army Air Corps during World War II.

"At least somebody made it back to the one they loved," Rogers said.

Coulson wrapped an arm around Rogers, who sobbed, sinking to the ground. He grabbed hold, and Coulson sat there with him, not really knowing what else to do. And of course, with his luck, Rachel came walking around the corner, carrying a take-out bag.

"I brought you guys lunch. . ."

"Go," Coulson said. Rachel nodded, walking away, leaving them alone.

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"Annoyed" didn't cover it. Coulson knew Rachel and her best friend, Shay, were sitting inside, talking about him. He saw them looking out the backdoor at him, giggling once in a while. Shay waved, and he waved back. The one saving grace was he was manning the grill. He wouldn't let anyone else touch it when he was there. Behind him, out in the yard, Rogers was showing Emily and her friend, Allie, Shay's daughter, the proper way to throw a baseball. Rogers was disgusted with the fact the girls were playing softball—baseball was good enough, so he was going to show them. So far, the evening was going well. Normal. Well, as normal as he'd experienced in a long time.

And he and Rogers hadn't discussed what happened that afternoon. Just one more thing they'd have to deal with later. It would come, but he was going to try and enjoy himself for a while.

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Rachel peeked out the window at her brother, whose brow was furrowed. He was either deep in thought or plotting ways to get even with her over the marble incident. Then Shay poked her.

"Never saw this one coming," Shay said. "I thought Phil was serious about that girl he was seeing—the one he brought home at Thanksgiving."

"He was," Rachel said. "He even mentioned the m-word, just once."

"Yeah, I remember that," Shay said. "New Year's Eve. He did seem serious about it, then again, I've never known Phil to be anything but serious."

"Tell me about it," Rachel said. "It's not a bad thing though. He's happy. Not the only thing—you should see the scar on his chest and back, It's new.

"Did he say what happened?"  
"He won't tell me anything," Rachel said. "He was supposed to come visit, it was right around the time all that alien weirdness happened in New York. Nothing for three weeks after he was supposed to be here—he never returned my calls, e-mails or texts. Then one day I get this short e-mail, saying he's sorry he couldn't come, he loves me and Em and Mom, and can I pass on his love and he's sorry?"

"He does work for Homeland Security, and Em does think he's a man in black, and if you think about it, it does all make sense," Shay said. "Gone all the time, no contact for weeks on end, and he never talks about his work. . ."

"Phil is a desk jockey," Rachel said.

Shay let it go. No point in trying to convince her friend of anything else. Rachel was blind. The dots connected, or maybe she just wanted them to. Changing the subject was probably a wise idea, though.

"How old is the new significant other?" Shay asked.

"Early 20s," Rachel said. "He won't tell me. I know he went to art school and was in the Army. He won't tell me how they met, just said it was through work."

"Quit being nosy," Shay said. "Just be glad Phil's whole and healthy and happy."

"Still crazy though," Rachel said.

"Is he still a Captain America fanboy?"

"He has a deck of vintage Captain America cards he wants to get signed by some artist, and you should've seen his face when I told him Mom tossed a bunch of his old junk," Rachel said. The fact she found them in the garage that day with Steve crying over a box of old junk was a little strange. Maybe he had PTSD?

"Hasn't grown out of it then, just hides it really well," Shay said. "Think we should go join them?"

"Sure," Rachel said. "Steve does need to hear move of Phil's fanboy adventures. Except she didn't get the chance. The instant she was out the door and close to her brother, his phone went off. She took it from his hands, answering the call, much to the annoyance of one Tony Stark.

"Hey Phil…"

"Phillip isn't here. Please leave a message after the beep." Rachel ended the call, setting the phone down on the table.

It buzzed again, this time she handed it to Rogers.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"Who was that girl? I know you're on vacation, I hope it's a nice sunny beach somewhere, but a girl, Captain Spangles, a threesome, that's kinky for you, I'm surprised," Stark said.

"The next time I see you, we're going to have a talk about propriety," Rogers said.

"Did you say propriety or sobriety?" Stark asked. "Either way, Capsicle, I'm sitting that one out."

"Are you in the air?" Rogers asked.

"Yup," Stark answered. "Got another little problem with the Bilgesnipe."

"Where are you and who's with you?"

"Somewhere over eastern Colorado, getting ready to land. Barton is on the ground with an assault team trying to keep the critters 're in flat, rolling, open country," Stark said. "My friend Rhodey is with me."

"Where the hell is Th. . .Point Break?"

"Don't have any way to contact him," Stark said.

"Let me know how it goes," Rogers said. "Good luck."

"What is it?" Coulson asked.

Rogers stuck his fingers up the sides of his head like antlers.

"Great," Coulson said.

"Is that like government Army speak for something secret?" Rachel asked.

Coulson sighed, putting his arm around Emily, who was standing beside him, thinking. Steve was mimicking antlers, like the thing in his drawing of Thor, one of the Avengers. He'd let her look through his sketchbook, and it was full of drawings of things she could not even begin to imagine. And he'd given her a drawing of an alien, which looked like the ones from New York. She'd watched a couple of alien autopsy videos on YouTube, and dug up everything her 12-year-old mind could think of to look up on them. Thank heaven her mother didn't know, or she'd take away her laptop. (She still didn't know about the Ipad. She'd flip when she found out about what she viewed as another expensive, needless gadget.)

Then there was her mom's rant the day before about how much Uncle Phillip didn't talk about, like why did he have a picture of Tony Stark on his phone, and why couldn't he just be normal? The rant wasn't important to Emily. The significance of the conversation was the mention of Tony Stark, who was Iron Man, one of the Avengers. Thor was also an Avenger, someone also in a drawing in Steve's book. Emily also remembered the sketch of the pretty woman with the guns and the man with the bow and arrow. They had to be important.

No drawings of Captain America, but lots of the other people and places and more. Then there was the second part of her mom's rant, the part about Uncle Phillip's immaturity and his Captain America fanboy tendencies over the cards and wanting to get them signed. Steve was an artist. He was in the Army, too. . .Emily frowned. No way. . . But Steve was different. He didn't talk like the other adults she knew, or dress or act like them, and he didn't know who Bono was (neither did Allie, but she didn't care, but she knew Bono was a person, not a thing). Had to be though, right? But no. Stuff like that didn't happen in real life. Well, the aliens were real, and she'd seen the footage of the attack on New York and looked up everything she could find on the Avengers because she wanted to know more. Steve couldn't be, could he?


	6. Chapter 6

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Emily waited until after dinner was over and the dishes done. The adults were playing Mariocart downstairs, and Allie was watching Justin Bieber videos on her Ipad. She pulled her lockbox from under the bed, unlocking it, going through the baseball cards until she found what she was looking for—her small collection of Captain America cards, a gift from Uncle Phillip. They were vintage, he said. (According to her mother, vintage was just a nice way of describing old junk.) They were old, from World War II, but that wasn't why they were precious. Her uncle trusted her with something old and valuable, something that meant a lot to him.

She picked out one of the cards, thinking. She could just put it in Steve's sketchbook and hope he noticed. It was better than asking outright. If she was wrong, she could just claim she put the card in the book because Steve reminded her of Captain America. If she was right. . .Only one way to find out. She ran downstairs, made sure they didn't notice, and stuck the card into the sketchbook, the top of the card peeking out over the edges of the book. Emily went back upstairs, hoping for the best.

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Coulson and Rogers were out on the deck, enjoying some time alone. They each had a beer, and it was late, so hopefully no neighbors peeking over the fence. Rachel was still up, but she was inside reading. She had to work the next night, and was staying up late, but she'd had enough company for one evening and threw the men out after Emily went to bed.

"Is Rachel always like this?" Rogers asked.

"She's crazier than normal," Coulson said. "It's the pregnancy—the hormones. She was worse when she was pregnant with Emily."  
"Rachel is spirited, but that can't be true," Rogers said. Banner could tell him the answer. He'd just have to e-mail him and ask.

"Maybe it's being pregnant and a single mother and worrying about her brother who never bothers to call or write or visit," Rogers said.

"She does have a lot to deal with," Coulson said.

"And you don't help," Rogers said.

"Rachel doesn't make it easy," Coulson said. "She's stubborn."

"So are you," Rogers said. "Why didn't you tell me you were in the Army?"

"It was only two years," Coulson said. "Then college, then my recruitment into SHIELD."

"You never talk about any of it," Rogers said. "Is there any wonder your sister gets so upset with you? And you don't share anything with me. You know my past, but I know almost nothing about yours."

"Does it really matter that much?" Coulson said.

"It does," Rogers said.

"And we're really going to have our first disagreement over this?"

"Not really," Rogers said. "I'm going inside."

He went in, picking up his sketchbook, ready to head upstairs when his phone rang. Stark, from the ringtone. A loud rock song. Stark had programmed his phone with a different song for everyone on the team, so he'd know who it was without having to look.

"Captain Rogers here. . .good. Nobody got hurt? Two of them? Again? How did Rhodes do? I told you to call, but that doesn't mean. . .No. Would you butt out of my personal life? I'll tell Fury who really put that footage up on FaceTube or whatever. . .it's called a breach of national security, and no, I'm not cranky. What about Loki? Which one? Where is she? Why is she there? She better be back in the apartment when we get home, or I will. . .Pictures? What pictures? No, he didn't tell me. . .Where the hell are you now? Do not piss off Fury again. . .No, you owe me. Remember who saved your ass in Mexico? I know that was off the books, do you think I'm stupid? Fine. Go ahead. See how far you get with that. . .how the hell are you going to move the carcass? Have fun."

Rachel was peering over the back of the couch at him.

His phone rang again.

"Captain Rogers. . .yes, it's a habit, and I don't know if I can break it. .. No, no dissection. How. . .well, you're going to have to fix that, aren't you? It's called 'containment.' Get off your ass and fix it. I don't care if you have to, make up something, but keep them away. Got it? No, you can't talk to Phil because I'm not talking to Phil. . .Logic? You know where you can stick your logic? I told you to stay the hell out of my personal life. . ._What?_ I'm going to forget you said that. No, I don't need to look it up. Good-bye."

"Problems?" Rachel asked.

"Uh, kind of," Rogers said.

"And did you have a disagreement with Phil?"

"Not talking about," Rogers said. "No offense."

"None taken," Rachel said. "You know, there's a lot of that not talking going on around here.

"Yeah," Rogers said, going upstairs, opening his sketchbook. And something fell out. He bent down, picking it up—an old Captain America card.

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Coulson lay on the couch, staring into the darkness. It was after 3 a.m., and he couldn't sleep. Rogers locked him out of their room, and a call from Stark drove him outside to talk in private. Two more Bilgesnipe dead and destroyed. The idea to dissect one was a good one, but they were big, smelly and there wasn't an easy way to transport a carcass. That was an easy fix. Not so easy was trying to figure out if Rogers' annoyance with him was personal, or more on behalf of his sister. Rogers was getting to experience Coulson family dynamics in a trial by fire. No just easing him into it. It was all or nothing—either he could take it or not.

His fiancée, who me met in college, didn't last long past meeting his family. She said they were nosy, overbearing and weird. Then Anna, the cellist, was the only other woman he'd ever brought home to meet his family. That meant he was serious, and even she'd been overwhelmed (maybe it was the inclusion of Shay's family at the holiday meal and a couple of members of the extended family, he didn't know, and it did not matter now). The breakup of their relationship was mutual—she had an opportunity back home in Portland, and he was up to his eyeballs with SHIELD with no time for a personal life. Years of effort on the Avengers Initiative, working to make it a reality, seeing it through became his focus. Now, the Avengers were his life. He couldn't disentangle his personal life from it anymore because of his involvement with Rogers.

Coulson knew his mother suspected he did more than work for Homeland Security. She respected his silence, and had come to accept it. Years as a military wife gave her a perspective his sister did not have. Sometimes he got the feeling Rachel knew he was deep in something serious, but she chose denial for the sake of her own sanity and to preserve their relationship. They'd been close growing up, then not so close when he first joined SHIELD. She'd made a few decisions he didn't approve of, but he knew Rachel did not need his acceptance or approval. Eventually they settled into something they could both accept, which was the state of their present relationship. Tolerance, respect, and a great amount of sarcasm on Rachel's part and a healthy sibling rivalry was something they could both deal with.

Putting aside their differences for the sake of Emily and their mother was another compromise. Emily was probably one of the best things to happen to both of them. His niece's birth forced Rachel to become a responsible, contributing member of society once it became clear the girl's father wasn't going to stick around and accept his responsibilities. Having Emily in his own life gave him a sense of caution when it came to work, that there were people who loved him and depended on him, and gave him something more personal to fight for.

For a moment, he wondered what his father would think of the man he had become, and how he and Rachel had turned out. It wasn't something they ever discussed. Coulson knew their father had been proud of them both, regardless of the choices they made. And what would his mother say once she found out he was seeing another man? Probably nothing, knowing her.

Coulson's thoughts cycled back to Rogers. He was locked out on principle. Nice. A physical separation to show how Rogers felt about being shut out of parts of his life. Damn, he was a hypocrite. He expected all or nothing out of Rogers, and the least he could do was give back the same. He rolled off the couch, standing, going upstairs, knocking on the bedroom door. Rogers opened it, not saying a word, eyebrow arched in question.

"I'm sorry," Coulson said. "You were right."

"Apology accepted," Rogers said, letting him in. He flipped on the light, going to get his sketchbook, pulling out a card, handing it to Coulson. "Did you put this in my book?"

"No," Coulson said. "This is one of Emily's cards."

"Why would she. . .no. She couldn't know, could she?" Rogers asked.

"She's 12," Coulson said.

"She's your niece," Rogers said. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"You can ask her about it in the morning," Coulson said.

"You're not going to say anything?"

"I'm not interrogating my 12-year-old niece," Coulson said. "We'll figure it out. Can I stay here with you or not?"

"Ican't sleep without you anyway," Rogers said.

"The nightmares?"

"Yes," Rogers answered, flipping out the lights. He laid down, Coulson settling in beside him.


	7. Chapter 7

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

8 a.m. Rachel was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, drinking decaf, watching Emily eat her breakfast. The girl was unusually quiet, but she had a book beside her cereal bowl, and was humming happily to herself. Rachel walked over, picking up the book, turning it over. It was "Unsolved Mysteries of World War II." It was open to a chapter about the disappearance of Captain America.

"Em, you and I need to have a talk about what literature is appropriate for a kid your age," Rachel said. "Did your uncle get you this book?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "No, you got it for me at the last library book sale," she said. "Don't you remember?

Then Phil and Steve came walking in, returning from a run, and Rachel stuck her tongue out at her brother, but of course, Phil ignored it, getting down a couple of bowls for himself and his hottie.

"You're on your own for breakfast," Rachel said. "Remember I have to work tonight, so you'll have to watch Em, and Phil, I'm going to need you to go into the bakery a few hours today. The manager called in sick, and they're going to be short, so the least you can do is man the register for a few hours. Mom texted me a while ago, and she'll be home sometime Friday. I'm going back to bed, and if you wake me up, I will kill you."

She gave Emily her book back, and Steve sat down at the table beside her. Emily pushed the cereal box his way, not taking her eyes off the book.

"Good book, kiddo?" he asked.

"Yeah," Emily said.

"What's it about?" Rogers said.

Emily handed him the book, still open to the same chapter. The girl watched his reaction—all the color drained from Steve's face as he handed it back to her.

"Interesting," Rogers said, trying to catch Coulson's eye. He was ignoring him, reading the morning paper. Damn. He was on his own. "You like history?"

"Some of it," Emily said. "Mom's always policing my reading, so I have to be careful what I choose."

"Yet she gave you Twilight," Rogers said.

"I read the first chapter and never picked it up again," Emily said. "Not until you got here."

"I read the couple of chapters and hated it," Rogers said. "Phil here read the entire first book."

"Why?" Emily asked. "Did you lose a bet or something?"

"Something like that," Coulson said, finally entering the conversation.

"Peer pressure," Rogers muttered. And then he nearly jumped out of his chair when his phone rang. Stark, again. "What do you want?"

"Irritable this morning, aren't we, sunshine?" Stark said. "Interesting e-mail I'm reading over Banner's shoulder. Who's pregnant? Something you want to tell me, Cap? Or do you need a refresher on the birds and the bees?"

"I'm going to throw you out an airlock without the suit when I get back," Rogers said.

"Sounds like fun," Stark said. "You still owe me a couple of rounds anyway. Banner's telling me the answer to your question is, and I quote 'the crazy doesn't come from the hormones.' Happy?"

Rogers hit the "end" button, setting down the phone.

"What did the consultant want?" Coulson asked.

"He was passing along some information from Banner that I asked for," Rogers said. "And you were wrong—Rachel isn't crazier because she's pregnant. You're just imagining things."

Emily snorted.

"See, even she agrees with me," Coulson said.

"Mom's just using it as an excuse," Emily said, standing, putting her bowl in the sink. "She has a lot on her mind."

"Such as?" Coulson asked, interested in what his niece had to say.

"Well, they offered her a full-time job at the hospital instead of part-time, and she could go to days, but she hasn't said if she wants it or not, and Gram said she should take it, but she's stubborn, and it would be better with the baby and everything," Emily said. "I wish she would take it."

"Maybe she will," Coulson said. "Now I know about it, we can talk. How does that sound?'

"Good luck with that," Emily said. "We better get to the bakery. There's only so long Marti and Kay can hold off the police this time of day."

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Rogers noted Emily was correct as they pulled around the block. It looked like a police convention outside the small building. He shot Coulson an amused look as he notice the name of the business—"Loafing Around."

"My mother's idea" Coulson said, holding the door open for Rogers and Emily. Five minutes later, he found himself put to work, boxing up dozens of donuts and other pastries for people and pouring coffee. Emily helped, and he guessed from how well the kid handled the ribbing from the police, she'd done it before. Coulson was behind the register, looking annoyed.

"Hey Emily, why's he looking so sour?" Rogers asked.

"He's probably mad he can't touch a donut," Emily said. "No eating on the clock."

Rogers laughed. "Phil does love his donuts," he said.

"And coffee," Emily said. "He's a zombie without it."

"I know. It's not pretty sometimes," Rogers said. "Hey—did you put that card in my sketchbook?"

Emily nearly dropped the box of donuts in her hands. "Yeah," she said.

"Why?"

"Um, you remind of what he'd. . Captain America would be like," Emily said.

"Not a fan at all like your uncle, eh?" Rogers asked, pointing at the Captain America shield shirt she was wearing again.

"He's my favorite Avenger," Emily said. "Mom likes Thor. Gram's favorite is Iron Man. She thinks Tony Stark is handsome."

Rogers looked across the room at Coulson amused. No, it did not run in his family at all. And he could hardly wait to tell him what his mother thought of Tony Stark. Fireworks anyone?

And then Emily's fingers were digging into his arm and her eyes wide as she stared at the man entering the bakery. Almost as tall as himself, in black fatigue pants and a fire and rescue t-shirt. Close-cropped red-blond hair and a beard and mustache, muscled. Looked enough like Thor Rogers had to do a double-take.

"Uh oh," Emily said.

"What?"

"That's Kelly," Emily said.

"Who?"

"Mom's boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. I haven't seen him in a while, and he's never met Uncle Phillip," Emily said.

"It'll be fine," Rogers said, but he was going to keep a watchful eye on the meeting.

88888

Coulson didn't look up, counting money and putting it in the drawer, picking up a pencil to take down the next order.

"Two dozen donuts, a dozen blueberry muffins and six coffees."

"Plain donuts?"

"Glazed."

Coulson looked up, and found the man across the counter giving him a funny look.

"You must be Phillip Coulson," he said. "You look a lot like Rachel."

"And you are?" Coulson asked, frowning.

"Kelly Thorresen," he said, offering his hand. "I used to date Rachel. I take it she's never mentioned me?"

"Only once," Coulson said.

"Yeah. . .I'll just go get my donuts. . ."

Rogers handed him the boxes of pastries and a holder for the coffee. Kelly waved and smiled at Emily.

"How's it going, small fry?"

"OK," she said.

"See you."

Rogers noted Coulson looked calm, but the glint in his eyes belied his true feelings. He walked over, grabbed him by the arm, dragging him into the back, out of Emily's hearing.

"Emily told me who he is," Rogers said. "That's the father of your sister's unborn child. You are not going to tase him, interrogate him or have him disappeared."

"Oh, I won't have him disappeared. I'll do it myself," Coulson said.

"No you won't," Rogers said. "You don't even know why they're not together. Besides did you see how much he looks like Thor? I wonder if he ever sewed some wild oats in this realm?"

"That's not funny," Coulson said, trying not to smile, but Rogers was right. The resemblance the last name were suspicious, but he followed Rogers back out front, where Emily was ducked down behind the counter. He figured out why when he saw who had just entered—Mrs. Pratt, her daughter Marsha and her daughter, Tiffany, the girl Emily punched.

"I'll take care of this," Rogers said. He took their orders, boxed up the stuff and did a reasonable job of figuring out the register. Then Coulson heard Rogers yelp. He turned around, and Marsha was stepping from behind the counter, and Rogers was backed up against the wall. He didn't move until they left.

"What happened?" Coulson asked.

"You didn't see that?"

"I didn't see all of it," Coulson said. "Just the part where you were backed up against the wall."

"That. . .woman grabbed my backside, told me to call her if I ever wanted a good time and slipped something in my pocket," Rogers said, reaching into his pocket to find a $20 bill with a phone number written on it.

"C'mon. We could all use a break, and you can buy us lunch," Coulson said. "I'll go get Emily."

He removed his apron, which was emblazoned with the name of the bakery. He was going to have to remove the pictures from Rogers' phone if he could pry it away from him.

88888

Because Coulson wasn't allowed to interrogate Rachel's ex, and his sister wouldn't talk about it, Emily was a potential source of information. His mother and sister sometimes forgot to watch what they said around Emily, forgetting she was there.

"So, Em, what did Rachel threaten you with if you talked about Mr. Thorresen?"

"She said she would disown me and send me to boarding school," Emily said.

"What has the list grown to include now?" Coulson asked.

"What list?" Rogers said.

"The list of things to do to get disowned in the Coulson family," he answered. "At least my sister's version."

"No tattoos or piercings until I'm old enough, and even then, Mom doesn't want to see them or know about them, no joining the military, no motorcycles or dating anyone in a band," Emily said. "And no telling you anything she doesn't want you to know. But I don't mind snitching on Mom."

Coulson ignored the grin Rogers was giving him. He knew he was guilty of some of the things on that list, and had photographic proof. But he ignored it.

"Mom isn't talking to Kelly because she 'rabbited' when he popped the question," Emily said. "That's exactly what Gram said happened."

Interesting, that. And Rogers' phone was going off, with Stark's ringtone. At least he wasn't harassing him.

"Captain Rogers. . .no, he's here. Yes, we're talking again. No, I can't blame Loki for biting you, you probably did something to deserve it. Stark, harm a single bit of fur on Loki and I will. . .Oh yeah? Bring it on, tough man. The armor won't be enough. . .Fine. Jackass."

He ended the call, and Emily was giving him a strange look. Then she stood up, squealing him, giving him a big hug. Then she let go, walking away.

"What the hell was that about?" Rogers asked.

Coulson shrugged. "We'll figure it out later."

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Emily leaned against the Mustang, trying not to hyperventilate. Steve had answered his phone Captain Rogers. He was a captain, and he was talking to someone named Stark who had armor. Then there was Loki. Loki was someone Captain America faced in Germany a couple of days before the fight in New York. She was right. Steve wasn't like anyone else because there was no one else on Earth like him. Or maybe she was imagining it, and her mom would say she needed go grow up but everything fit. She had to be right.


	8. Chapter 8

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Coulson was sitting on the couch between Emily and Rogers. They were watching "The Wizard of Oz." Emily had never seen it, due to Rachel's overwhelming childhood fear of the flying monkeys, and it was Rogers' favorite movie. He was trying to correct Rachel's oversight. He would have to do damage control when Rachel found out. It wasn't like they were watching an R-rated movie with his niece. He had out his cell phone, texting Rachel about an entirely different matter.

"_Met a friend of yours at the bakery today." _he texted, waiting.

_"Who the hell would that be?_ came the reply.

_"A firefighter named Kelly Thorresen."_

There was no reply. Putting his phone away, he noticed Rogers was staring at him.

"Problems?"

"No," Coulson said.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Coulson answered.

"Mom is going to hurt you," Emily said. "I saw the message you sent."

"Reading my texts now?" Coulson asked.

"You weren't trying very hard to hide it," Emily said. "Besides, I think she misses Kelly. He's nice."

"Em, what was with the squealing this afternoon?" he asked. It was uncharacteristic of his niece to exhibit such behavior.

"Nothing," Emily said.

"Em. . .Did it have anything to do with the Captain America card in Steve's sketchbook?"

"Um, yes."

"Well?"

"Promise you won't laugh?" Emily said, hiding her face in a pillow.

"You know I won't," Coulson said.

"It's silly. . ."

"Emily," Coulson said, using the tone of voice he knew she'd heed.

"Steve let me look at his sketchbook, and he had the aliens from New York, and Thor, and he's talked on the phone with somebody name Stark, and he's a captain, so I thought maybe he was Captain America, but that's silly and can't be real and I think I'm going to die now," she said, once again burying her face in a pillow.

Rogers turned white; Coulson was at a loss for words. But Roger was shaking his head yes, and Coulson was most definitely not going to compromise national security on a whim. Then he found himself yanked off the couch and dragged into the kitchen.

"We should tell her," Rogers said. "She figured it out, it's the least we can do. Besides, would anyone believe her?"

Rogers did have a point, but it was his ass and his job. . .

"Fine," Coulson said, walking back into the living room, Rogers following.

Emily was sitting up once again, a frown on her face.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Emily, what I'm about to tell you, you cannot repeat to a living soul," Coulson said. "It could mean my job, Steve's job, and so much more. You're right."

She blinked a few times, then she stood up on the couch, jumping up and down, letting out another loud squeal. Jumping off the couch, she hugged her uncle, then hugged Steve again. She let go, sitting back down on the couch, taking a deep breath.

"I knew it," Emily said. "You do have an important job, don't you, Uncle Phillip?"

"Very important," Coulson said. "You're not going to say anything? I will find out about it. . ."

"I won't tell anyone, and that's a promise," she said. "Who would believe me anyway? Not Mom. But I won't tell on one condition."

Coulson met Rogers' gaze, then looked back at his niece.

"That Steve signs my Captain America cards," Emily said.

"Go get them," Rogers said.

Emily ran.

"Your family should be my official fan club," Rogers said.

Coulson blushed crimson.

"What?" Rogers asked,

"When I was a kid, I was the president of the local chapter," Coulson said.

"Remind me to sign your cards when we get home," Rogers said. Emily was back, and handed him her stack of cards and a Sharpie.

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8 a.m. Rachel was late coming home, two hours late. She was exhausted, and hungry and wanted to grab something to eat and fall into bed. Except her brother, Emily and the hottie were thick as thieves in the kitchen. Well, Phil was looking embarrassed, and Emily was laughing at a picture Steve was showing the girl on his phone.

"That was in California a few months ago," Rogers said. "I didn't know he could ride a motorcyle. . ."

Rachel cleared her throat. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"Nothing," Emily said, going back to her cereal. Phil picked up the paper, and Steve started scrolling through stuff on his phone.

"Rough night?" Coulson asked.

"Yeah," Rachel said. "And you didn't help by butting in."

"I wasn't butting in," Coulson said. "It was two text messages. Want to talk about it?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it or Kelly or anything to do with him," Rachel said.

Normally Phillip Coulson was a cautious man. His line of work had made him so, but sometimes, circumstances got the better of him. Especially when family was involved, mainly his baby sister.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because I'm not having this conversation with you, it's none of your business, I don't want to hear your opinion of how I screwed up yet again, I know it, I don't need to be reminded of it, and why the hell should I when you never tell me anything anymore?" Rachel snapped. "I'm going to bed. Leave me alone or I will tase you."

His own threat leveled at him made Coulson bite back his comment.

"I think she's serious," Rogers said.

"She is," Coulson said. "Emily, what do you know about this Kelly?"

"He's Allie's dad's best friend's little brother," Emily said. "He was a Marine, and Mom really seemed to like him."

"Phil, don't butt in," Rogers said.

"I'm not," Coulson said. "Just gathering data."

"He always comes by the bakery hoping Mom is working," Emily said. "I know he's dropped by a couple of times to talk to Gram, but Mom doesn't know."

"See? I don't have to butt in," Coulson said. "My mother is doing it for me."

Rogers sighed, laying his head down on the table. The whole damn Coulson family could be recruited into SHIELD, but he doubted the organization could survive it. And what had he been thinking before they left New York? About how nice it would be to spend time with a normal family? So far, it was Avengers-lite. Was everyone in the 21st century so damn dysfunctional? Then again, it was family. The Avengers and Phil were his family, and by extension, the Coulsons' were too. He'd just have to get used to it.

"What's the matter?" Coulson asked.

"Just thinking," Rogers muttered. Then his phone rang. Stark. "What?" he asked. "No. WHAT THE HELL? No, I don't want to see pictures. Is it a real sheep? Thank God. . .inflatable? How did you get it in his quarters? Speak English. . .wait, I do not want to know. Stark, Goddamnit, Fury is going to kick your ass. Well, he might shoot you instead, and I'm not going to feel sorry about it. NO, you are not bringing a real sheep onto the ship. Fine. When Fury does shoot you, we'll just replace you with Rhodes. At least he knows how to follow orders."

He ended the call, and then his phone beeped, and Coulson's buzzed. Rogers looked at his own phone, wary. Coulson squeezed the bridge of his nose when he saw the picture on his own screen, counting back from 10. There was an image of Nicholas Fury, Director of SHIELD, asleep, with his arms wrapped around an inflatable sheep.


	9. Chapter 9

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Coulson was on his laptop, responding to some emails from work while Rogers and Emily played a drawing game on their Ipads. A few hours of normal was nice, barring the desperate phone call from Stark, begging for help. Currently, Stark was in the ship's brig. No phone, no computer, no way to communicate with the outside world. Everyone would be lucky to survive the coming 24 hours. Director Fury wasn't too happy with the pictures of himself with the inflatable sheep. He'd sent out a memo declaring any inflatable animals in SHIELD headquarters as no longer allowed.

Coulson was still waiting for Stark to discover "Skippy's List." No one would be safe then. Natasha and Clint knew about it. He had pulled a couple of inspired pranks on Fury with their help. Nothing big, but enough to get Fury's attention. Well, with Stark, who the hell needed the list? He caused enough trouble on his own.

"What are you thinking?" Rogers asked, dropping onto the couch beside him. He'd left Emily in the kitchen, trying to duplicate the painting he'd done on his Ipad.

"How there are things in this world that Tony Stark does not need to know," Coulson said.

"Amen to that," Rogers said. "He is brilliant, but shouldn't you be thinking about something other than Stark? We're still on vacation."

"Oh, there are things, but some of them will get me into trouble," Coulson said, lips turning up in a slight smile.

Rogers blushed, knowing what he was hinting at. On vacation, and they'd had little time alone together.

"Maybe we can get Fury to give us a few more days off?" Rogers said.

"Two weeks is more than enough to be gone," Coulson said.

"Fury owes us," Rogers said. "He owes all of us. Clint and Natasha took three weeks off. Stark comes and goes as he pleases, and we get stuck with all the problems. If it's not you trying to put out the fires, it's me. Not that I mind, but we do deserve a break. A tiny one. You and me, no work, distractions or drama."

"Add no Stark and you've got a deal," Coulson said.

"I don't think anyone can guarantee that," Rogers said.

"You might be surprised," Coulson said.

"Is that a bet?" Rogers said.

"No, it is not a bet, and I think you're developing a gambling problem," Coulson said.

"I do not have a gambling problem," Rogers said.

"That's not what Director Fury said," Coulson retorted.

"That's not fair."

Then there was a knock at the front door, and Rogers got up to answer it. It was Shay, Rachel's friend, daughter Allie in tow.

"Hi Steve," she said. "Rachel said it was OK for me to take Emily to the water park with us. Is she ready to go?"

Coulson set down his laptop, going to get his niece. "Did you know you have plans today?" he asked.

"Water park?" Emily said. "I forgot with all the excitement yesterday. The water park is kind of dull, don't you think?"

"When you could be here, basking in the shadow of your hero?" Coulson said.

"Heroes," Emily said. "Instead, I'll be hiding in the shade trying not to end up looking like a lobster."

"You need to get out and enjoy life," Coulson said.

"Yeah, I know. Mom says to enjoy being a kid while I still can because I'll have to join the workforce in a few years," Emily said. "She's no fun."

"You still have a lot to look forward to," Coulson said. "Despite what your mother says."

"She doesn't mean it. At least I don't think she does," Emily said.

"Em, get your things. Shay is waiting," Coulson said.

She sighed, giving him a hug. He bent down, kissing her on the forehead. Emily went to change and get her bag.

"Don't forget to wear sunscreen," Coulson said as she came back downstairs.

"I won't forget," Emily said. "Hundreds of screaming little kids and roasting in the sun, here I come."

"Poor kid," Rogers said.

"Don't feel sorry for her," Coulson said. "It's a social excursion that will build character."

Rogers elbowed him. "It's summer, and she's a kid, and supposed to be having fun," he said. "What fun is she having?"

"She'd rather have stayed here with us," Coulson said.

"Yeah, my fan club has been halved," Rogers said.

"Rachel is still here," Coulson said. "Don't forget."

"And we're not supposed to wake her," Rogers said. "Something about getting tased?"

"She'd have to get to the taser first," Coulson said. "I know my mother's hiding place for it. I miss my taser. And my gun."

"You have an unhealthy attachment to inanimate objects," Rogers said.

"You're just repeating what you heard Banner say," Coulson said.

"It's true," Rogers said. "Sometimes I think you care about that taser more than me."

The kiss he gave Rogers suggested otherwise. "C'mon. Let's go get something to eat, and I'll show you around town. You wanted to know more about me, so here's your chance."

Coulson showed him the house his mother grew up in, the baseball fields where he used to play and won a state championship, the lake where his family used to boat, and a place he didn't often go—the cemetery. Rogers gave Coulson a questioning look as they turned in, and eventually came to a stop. Coulson got out of the car, Rogers following until the other man stopped in front of a headstone. It was engraved with a name, Alan Patrick Coulson.

"My dad's grave" Coulson said. "It's been a while since I've been here. He died of an aortic aneurysm six years ago."

"I'm sorry," Rogers said.

"Thanks," Coulson said. "He was in the Army, made a career of it. When he got out, he became an architect, and we moved here. All of my mother's family was here, so he thought it was only fair to settle here because he'd dragged us all over the place while he was in the service. I didn't mind. I loved it—getting to see new places, and meet so many different people. . .Rachel resented it, having to move all the time. My mother was an Army brat, so she was used to it."

"Why do I get the feeling your mother is an incredibly patient woman?" Rogers asked.

"You're not wrong," Coulson said. "She'll be home tomorrow."

"Should I be afraid?"

"Not really," Coulson said. "I think she'll like you."

"I hope so," Rogers said.

"Plenty to love," Coulson said.

"Repeat that," Rogers said.

"You heard me the first time," Coulson said. "C'mon. Let's head back to the house. Rachel is gone, so we'll have the place to ourselves."

Fifteen minutes later, they were barely in the front door, and they couldn't keep their hands off each other, Coulson shoving Rogers against the wall at the base of the stairs for a kiss, knocking down a couple of pictures. Then they were up the stairs, and nearly down the hall to their room when they heard a door open and footsteps. Almost in the clear, Rogers back against the door, Coulson's hand on the doorknob, they couldn't get enough of each other, and then he was being pushed away and Rogers was turning a bright shade of crimson.

"Ma'am," Rogers said.

"Mom," Coulson stammered.

"Hello Phillip," she said.

"Mom, we weren't expecting you until tomorrow," Coulson said.

"I can see that," she said, eying her son's companion. "I decided to come home a day early. Your aunt is doing fine, by the way."

"Uh, yeah. I should've called and asked how she was, but I've been uh busy," Coulson said. "Mom, I'd like you to meet Steve Rogers. Steve, this is my mother, Eileen Colson."

Rogers smiled at her, trying to be graceful and subtle about retrieving his t-shirt from the lamp on a table by their door, but he only succeeded in knocking the lamp over.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," he said. "It's late. I'm tired. See you in the morning."

He retreated into the safety of the bedroom, leaving Coulson out in the hall, facing his mother. She sighed, closing the distance between them, wrapping her arms around her son.

"It's good to see you, Phil," she said. "Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

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6:30 a.m., and a knock at the door.

"Phillip, downstairs. Now. We're going to have a talk."

He rolled out of bed, sighing, grabbing Rogers' discarded Army t-shirt, putting it on. Wouldn't do for his mother to see the new scars. She had enough to worry about. And of course, Rogers was gone, off on a run. Coulson followed his mother downstairs to the kitchen. She poured him a mug of coffee, shoving him toward the table. He took a seat, and she sat down across from him.

"Starting your mid-life crisis a little early?" she asked.

"Steve is older than you think," Coulson said.

"What, about 15 years younger than you?" his mother asked. "That doesn't matter though. Are you happy?"

"Very," Coulson said.

"Is it. . .

"No. Just him," Coulson said. "Only Steve."

"I still expect grandchildren," Eileen said. "You can always adopt. Or there are surrogates."

"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?" Coulson said.

"You're not getting any younger," she said. "You can't expect Rachel to carry that load all on her own."

"You already have one grandchild and another on the way," Coulson said.

"Phillip, relax," Eileen said. "Always wound so tight, just like your father. . .Rachel's always in denial. Sometimes I think Emily is the only one with any sense around here."

"I think you're right about that," Coulson said. "Well, where would Rachel or I be without you?"

"Non-existent," Eileen said. "Has Rachel told you anything about Kelly?"

"She only mentioned his name once while I've been here, but we did meet him at the bakery," Coulson said.

"What did you think of him?"

"I don't know what to think when I don't have all the facts," Coulson said.

"Well, you'll get a chance to find out some of those facts," she said. "I invited Kelly over for dinner tomorrow."

He choked on his coffee.

"Are you crazy?" Coulson asked. "Rachel is not going to be happy." "Not her call," she said. "She's being stubborn."

"And you're butting in," Coulson said.

"Like you said, you don't know everything," Eileen said.

"But you'll fill me in, won't you?"

"Damn straight," she said. "Want some breakfast?"

"Yes, and Steve will be starving when he's back from his run," Coulson said.

"Phillip, you have not yet begun to see me butting in," Eileen said. "It's for Rachel's own good, but that can wait. I want to hear how you met Steve."

Coulson relaxed, sipping his coffee. He could do this. It was just his mother and a simple question. Technically, we met last year when Steve was unconscious and thawing out from being frozen in the Arctic since World War II.

"We met through work," he answered.

"That is not an answer," Eileen said. "Where were you? What were you doing?"

"Picking him up for an assignment," Coulson said. "In New York."

"Was that so hard?"

"No," he said.

"How long have you been seeing each other?"

"A while now," Coulson said.

"Phillip. . ."

"Almost six months," he said.

"Does he know about your Captain America obsession?" she asked.

"From the first day we met," he said.

"So he's not annoyed by the fact it's probably one of the reasons you were attracted to him?" Eileen said. "He seems like what a man like that would really be like."

"You got that from five minutes last night?"

"I know you too well, and I'm very observant," she said. "And I'm observing your significant other coming our way right now."

Rogers walked into the kitchen, looking anywhere but at Coulson, not meeting his eyes.

"Ma'am," he said, sitting down.

"Steven," she said.

"Just Steve, ma'am," he said.

"Call me Eileen, or Mrs. Coulson, but not ma'am. I had enough of that when I was teaching," she said. "Steve, tell me about yourself."

He took a deep breath, catching Coulson's eye. He smiled back, relaxing. They were finally getting a little more of normal.


	10. Chapter 10

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Rachel walked into the kitchen, yawning. Phil was showing Emily something on his phone, her mother was at the sink, back turned to her and Steve was shoveling food into his mouth like there was no tomorrow.

"This looks cozy," Rachel said, sitting down.

Her mother got a plate down out of the cabinet, handing it to her. "You're lucky you came down," Eileen said.

"Yeah, I know. Muscles likes to eat," Rachel said.

Rogers turned red, handing her the almost-empty casserole pan near him.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said.

"What did I tell you about calling me that?" Rachel said, poking him in the ribs with the butt of her fork. "It's OK. Eat all you want. You probably don't get much of a chance to eat a decent meal considering how well Phil can cook."

He glowered at her.

"Actually, Phil can cook," Rogers said. "We just eat on the run a lot."

"Em, did you show your uncle the box of his old stuff we found in the garage?" Eileen asked.

"Not yet," Emily said.

"I still think we should trash it," Rachel said, watching Phil's eyes narrow. She reached over, patting him on the head. "You're a little old for all that, aren't you?"

"Rachel, leave your brother alone," Eileen said. "Some of those cards and comic books are worth a lot of money these days."

"Junk," Rachel said, sticking her tongue out at Phil. She was just trying to get a rise out of him now, but apparently, he wasn't taking the bait. "Hey—if you get those vintage cards of yours signed, won't that make them not worth anything now?"

"They're worth more than money," Coulson said. "Especially now."

Rachel noted the look passing between Phil and Steve, and the ghost of a smile on the hottie's lips. Why the hell did they have to be so cryptic?  
"Now that the government found some patsy to play Captain America?" Rachel said. "It just means the demand will go up for your vintage junk."

"What about those precious U2 concert posters you collect?" Coulson said.

"Those are vintage," Rachel said. "Worth a lot of money, but that's not why they're important."

"They remind you of the juvenile delinquent you used to be?" Coulson asked.

"I'm not the one that's mentally unbalanced enough to turn a childhood obsession into a career," Rachel said. "Captain fanboy."

Eileen decided enough was enough. "Rachel, I hope you don't mind, but I invited Kelly over for dinner tonight," she said.

"What?"

"Time to go," Emily said, grabbing her uncle by one hand and Steve by the other, dragging them from the kitchen and out onto the deck.

Rogers winced when he heard the sound screaming and of something breaking inside. Most likely something glass.

"Should somebody go back inside and stop them?" he asked.

"Getting in the middle of that is not a good idea," Coulson said. "I am not interfering."

"Yeah," Emily said. "It's lots safer out here."

"How can you both be so calm with members of your family inside screaming and throwing stuff at each other?" Rogers said.

"Just Rachel throwing things," Coulson said. "Sometimes she tends to overreact."

Emily snorted. "Slightly," she said. "Gram and Mom have been arguing about Kelly for a long time now. Gram said Mom needs to grow up and what happened with my dad probably won't happen with Kelly."

"Probably not," Coulson said, putting his arm around Emily.

"You're seriously all right with this?" Rogers asked.

Coulson shrugged. "Like I said, I'm not interfering," he said. "This is between Mom and Rachel."

"It'll be over soon," Emily said.

A few minutes later, the yelling ended. The kitchen door opened, and Rachel came out.

"Em, c'mon. We're going over to Shay's," Rachel said.

"I don't want to go," Emily said.

"Em, _now_. This is not negotiable."

"I'm staying," Emily said. "You can't make me go."

Rachel bit back the "wanna bet" on the tip of her tongue. She was furious with her mother, and now her annoyance with Phil was notching up, too. Emily was holding on to her uncle like she was never going to see him again if they were separated. Possible, but not probable, with the way Rachel was feeling. Phil was just easy target for her anger, and damn him, he'd just take it if she turned on him. He always had, just like their dad. Well, there had been occasions where he screamed back, but those were exceptions, and she'd probably deserved it. However, he didn't deserve her anger right now. Her mother earned her ire, and she was also angry with herself, but she wasn't going to admit it.

"Fine, Em. We're not going to Shay's, but we are leaving. Just for a few hours," Rachel said. "Phil, give me the keys to that Mustang or you will regret it."

He reached into his pocket, handed the keys to the rental to his sister.

"C'mon," she said.

An hour later and yet another speeding ticket he was going to have to clean up, Coulson was sitting at a table outside Starbuck's with Rogers. Rachel and Emily were inside, ordering.

"Did you teach Rachel to drive like that?" Rogers asked.

"No," Coulson said. "Our father taught us both to drive in his '65 Mustang, so that's where she picked up those speeding skills. Now that I think about it, I really miss that car."

Not that he was one to lust after a car, but it was a classic—a blue 1965 Mustang fastback, his father's one true love besides his mother. After his father's death, they'd talked about selling the car. Rachel didn't want it, it wasn't practical and all she'd seen was dollar signs. His mother hadn't wanted it because it was a reminder of the past. He would've taken it, but again, it wasn't practical, and he didn't have a place to store it. But that didn't answer the question of what they'd done with it.

"I didn't think you were into classics like that," Rogers said.

"You should know better by now," Coulson said.

"Oh, so I'm a classic?" Rogers asked.

"One of a kind and irreplaceable," Coulson said.

"So are you," Rogers said.

"Don't be making googly eyes at each other," Rachel said, sitting down at their table, handing Coulson his coffee. "I will never be able to get the image of Phil making googly eyes at someone out of my head."

"I do not make googly eyes," he said.

"You do to," Rachel said. "Isn't he, Em? Just at Steve, but still, googly eyes."

Emily rolled her eyes.

And Coulson frowned as his phone buzzed. "Coulson. . .sir. What? He's escaped? He has to be there somewhere if the armor isn't gone. . .yes, I saw the pictures. . .what about Loki? Really, sir, that isn't necessary. . .well, if you insist. . .It's all right, sir. See you then."

"Who was that?" Rachel asked.

"My boss," Coulson said.

"Who's Loki?"

"My cat," Coulson said.

"I didn't think you liked cats," Rachel said.

"I had to make an exception in this one case," Coulson said.

"Your boss is watching your cat while you're on vacation," Rachel said.

"Not exactly," Coulson said.

"You never make any sense," Rachel said.

"What is it this time?" Rogers asked.

"The consultant," Coulson said.

"I got that from the escaped part," Rogers said.

"They're looking for him right now," Coulson said.

"The boss must be really ticked off," Rogers said.

"Slightly," Coulson said.

"Now neither of you are making sense," Rachel said.

"Rachel, let it go," Coulson said.

"Why should I?" she asked.

He stood, grabbing Emily's hand, pulling her toward the bookstore.

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Coulson was staring at the books on the shelf in front of him, Rogers absentmindedly flipping through the book in his hands.

"I know what you're thinking, and I am not hiding," Coulson said.

"I wasn't thinking that," Rogers said. "I know you're hiding. I can't blame you after what happened back at the house."

"I'd like to know what my mother was thinking, inviting this Kelly person over to the house when Rachel does not want to see him," Coulson said.

"Maybe she has her reasons," Rogers said.

"Not like we'll have long to wait," Coulson said. "Rachel's coming this way."

"Where the hell have you two been hiding?" Rachel asked, smacking her brother in the arm with the books in her hands. "I've been looking for you and Em for a half-hour."

Rachel had a copy of the first two "Twilight" books and another book by the same author.

"Funny I can't find my copies, and it's only since you've been here," Rachel said, shooting Phil an accusing look.

"I didn't touch your books," Coulson said, glancing at Rogers, who was suddenly staring at his feet.

"Where's Em?" Rachel said.

"Did you check the astronomy or history sections?" Coulson said.

"No," Rachel said. "But I'm going to look."

"Rachel, I'll take those books," Rogers said. "That way you don't have to carry them all over the place."

"OK," she said, handing them over. "Meet me up front."

"Sure," Coulson said, watching her go. "Going to arrange for those books to have an accident also?"

"No, I'm going to pay for them," Rogers said. "Least I can do."

"Just make sure they're not where she can use them as a weapon tonight," Coulson said.

"You think it'll get that bad?" Rogers asked.

"Budapest and New York were nothing compared to the battleground Rachel can turn the house into," Coulson said.

"Please tell me you're kidding."

Coulson sighed. "I wish I was."


	11. Chapter 11

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Rogers answered the front door when the bell rang. The entire Coulson family was hiding-Eileen was in the kitchen, Emily was out back on the deck with Phil, and he didn't know where Rachel was. The man at the front door could've been Thor's twin, but he was trying not to drop a case of beer and a large foil-covered pan.

"Hi," Kelly said. "I remember seeing you at the bakery with Rachel's brother and Emily."

"Steve Rogers," he said. "Phil's significant other."

Rogers took the pan and the case of beer from the other man, leading him into the kitchen. Eileen smiled at them both, hugging Kelly. "It's good to see you," she said.

"I don't think Rachel is going to be happy I'm here," Kelly said.

"We already had a talk about it," Eileen said. "Make yourself at home. Kelly, Phil is out on the deck. Steve, take Kelly and those beers outside so you three can get acquainted."

"Yes ma'am," he said, grabbing the beer, and Kelly followed him out. Rogers pulled three out, using his bare hand to pop the tops off, handing one to Coulson and another to Kelly.

"So, you work for Homeland Security?" Kelly asked Coulson.

"I do," Coulson said. Emily was sitting beside him, grinning at her uncle. Yeah, he worked for Homeland Security. "Em, go help your Gram in the kitchen, will you?"

She stood, going inside, leaving the men alone. Coulson was going to interrogate his sister's ex when he had an opening.

"What about you?" Kelly said, turning to Rogers.

"Same as Phil," Rogers said. "Homeland Security, same department, different capacities, sort of. I used to be in the Army. Emily said you were a Marine?"

"Six years," Kelly said. "I enlisted right after high school, loved it, but I did my time, and became a firefighter about two years ago."

Then it was off to the races with Rogers asking him all about his training as a firefighter, and more. Rogers could set anyone at ease. He had Kelly talking about his time in the Marine Corps, baseball and football. Coulson sighed, knowing he was going to have to wait for his questioning.

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Eileen went up the stairs, stopping at her daughter's door. She'd left Emily setting the kitchen table. The 12-year-old was more mature than her mother sometimes. Eileen took a deep breath, knocking on Rachel's door. She waited, and nothing happened. Time to up the ante.

"Open that door or I'll get your brother to pick the lock," Eileens said.

"I'll tase him," came Rachel's muffled reply.

"Get your butt out here _now_," Eileen said. "What kind of an example are you setting for your daughter?"

"What kind of example is Phil setting for Em?" Rachel said, cracking the door.

"This is not about your brother," Eileen said. "You are going to come downstairs and have dinner with your family and the father of your unborn child. You are going to treat Kelly with the civility and respect he deserves."

"You're just angry I didn't say yes to his proposal," Rachel said. "Is that why he's here?"

"I don't give a rat's ass about social conventions," Eileen said. "I don't care if you marry Kelly or not. You're being stubborn, and he deserves the chance to get to know his child regardless of what happens. Your brother is dating another man. I don't care what anyone thinks. I want you to be happy. Whether you find that happiness with Kelly or someone else is your decision. I just don't want to see you regret a stupid decision."

"I'll come," Rachel said, opening the door all the way, stepping out of the room.

Eileen put an arm around her daughter's shoulders, walking with her down the stairs.

"What did you do when you figured out Phil's date for his vacation was another guy?" Rachel asked. "I just wanted to see the look on your face."

Eileen sighed. There had been no figuring it out, considering she'd stepped out of her bedroom, witnessing her son making out with another man.

"Too bad you missed it the other night," Eileen said. "They were making out in the hall, knocking down pictures."

"Phil? Making out? In front of you? Must be serious if he's letting his guard down that much," Rachel said. "I know they're living together, but Phil and a PDA like that where you can see him. . .well, he and Steve said Mrs. Pratt was staring over the gate the other day when they were making out on the deck, but no one was home. . ."

Her mother was giving her a strange look.

"What? You didn't know Phil was shacked up with his hottie?" Rachel said.

"No, he didn't share that little detail," Eileen said.

"Oops," Rachel muttered. "He is happy. I have to give him that much. Phil and Steve are joined at the hip. And Em loves Steve, so I think this time Phil brought home a winner."

"You should tell him that," Eileen said. "Although you both have very good taste."

"Yeah, Kelly is easy on the eyes, but that's not why I. . ." Rachel trailed off, deciding to change the subject. "It doesn't bother you Phil's living out his fanboy fantasy?"

"I'll admit, seeing him with Steve was a shock, but I'm over it. They seem like a good fit, and like you said, there's something about Steve that makes Phil let down his guard, and that can be nothing but a good thing," Eileen said. "As long as he's happy."

"Phil's self-control has been really slipping this time," Rachel said.

"You probably haven't helped," Eileen said.

"I have, a little, but it's fun to watch his shell crack," Rachel said.

"Be nice to your brother," Eileen said. "Remember what I said about Kelly. I will make you regret it if you don't behave."

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Coulson was half-listening now to the conversation between Rogers and Kelly. But he snapped back to attention.

"You know your name means 'son of Thor,' right?" Rogers asked.

"Yes," Kelly said.

"Just like Coulson is 'son of Coul,'" Rogers said, grinning at Coulson.

"You'll pay for that later," Coulson said.

"My family came from Norway," Kelly said.

Rogers gave Coulson an "I told you so" look."

"Rachel said I kind of look like that Avenger, Thor," Kelly said. "I don't know. . ."

"The resemblance is uncanny," Rogers said. "I've seen pictures, and if your hair was longer, you'd be a dead ringer for that Thor guy."

Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Steve, keep it up," he muttered, nearly getting knocked off his feet when Rogers clapped him on the back.

"I'm going to play catch with Em," Rogers said, nodding toward Emily, who had her baseball and glove, tossing the ball into the air, catching it. "You guys have some things you need to discuss."

"So how much do you know?" Kelly asked, surprising Coulson by cutting to the heart of the matter so quickly

"Not much," Coulson said. "Emily mentioned something about you proposing to Rachel."

"I did," he said. "And that was the end of it. Rachel told me it was over."

"Was this before or after she found out she was pregnant?"

"Before," Kelly said. "Has she always been so stubborn?"

"Yes."

"So you propose and Rachel dumps you?"

"That was the end of it," Kelly said. "A couple of weeks later she comes over, tells me she's pregnant, and we talked a little, but she's cut me off. Mostly. I did go with her to her ultrasound appointments, but we haven't talked about us, the baby, anything. I don't know what to do. Eileen's been trying to get Rach to talk to me, but she won't. I even thought maybe the age difference was an issue, but I don't know what I did wrong."

"You do know how well her first marriage went, correct?" Coulson asked.

"She told me about it," Kelly said. "But I'm not like that, and I've done everything I can to try and show her I love her and want to be with her."

"Have you told her this?" Coulson asked.

"I tried," Kelly said.

"Try harder," Coulson said. "But if you hurt her, I will make your life unendurable. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Kelly said.

"All I can suggest is talk to her. Make her listen. It's the only thing that works. Don't give up. . ." Coulson said. But why the hell was he saying this to someone, when he didn't have Rachel's side of the story? Oh well. Kelly seemed determined. "That's all the advice I can offer. And good luck."

And then Eileen was dragging Rachel out the backdoor, and shoving her toward Kelly.

"Play nice," Eileen warned. "I can see you from the kitchen. Phil, help me inside, will you?"

He handed his grilling instruments to his sister.

"Don't burn dinner," he said. "Amateur."

Rachel glared, but Kelly took the spatula and tongs from her. "I'll take care of it," he said.

And then Rachel was alone with Kelly.  
"You're looking good," Kelly said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'd rather not be here," Rachel said.

"Y'know, whatever I did, you can tell me, Rachel," Kelly said.

"That's the thing—you didn't do anything," Rachel said. "I mean anything wrong. You did everything right. I thought maybe you'd prove me wrong."

"That's it? That's all? I didn't live up to your low expectations, so that's what this is all about?" Kelly said, incredulous.

"I'm not ready for another marriage," Rachel said. "Things were moving too fast."

"That's the thing, Rach, the first time, you didn't have a marriage," Kelly said. "If you don't want to get married, fine. I'm willing to do whatever you want, just give me a chance."

"You're doing it again," Rachel said.

"Maybe we need to go back to square one," Kelly said. "Or something in between we can both live with. I want to see you. You're having my kid, _our_ daughter. I miss Em, and your mom, and I miss us. I'm not asking you to take me back. I'm asking for another chance. Rach, you need to tell me when something is wrong, or whatever. Please?"

The look on his face was so hopeful and full of longing, yet Rachel couldn't bring herself to say yes. She did miss him.

"Maybe," Rachel said. "Let's just get through tonight, OK?"

"OK," he said.

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"Are they talking?" Eileen asked her son, who was dicing tomatoes for a salad.

"Yes," Coulson said, looking out the back window.

"No screaming, throwing things, broken glass?" Eileen said.

"None," Coulson said.

"That's good," Eileen said. "What do you think of Kelly?"

"I think he's a very determined man," Coulson said. "I wished him luck."

"Do you like him?" Eileen asked.

"He has guts, he really seems to care for Rachel, and he's trying to stick it out, so that's definitely something in his favor," Coulson said. "I think you made up your mind about him a long time ago, correct?"

"I think he's the one for Rachel," Eileen said. "I just hope she's wise enough to realize it. Is Steve the one for you?"

"What kind of question is that?" Coulson asked.

"Rachel said you're living together, so I take it the relationship is very serious," Eileen said.

"It is," Coulson said. "Satisfied?"

"Yes," Eileen said.

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They'd barely sat down to dinner when Kelly's pager went off, but he wouldn't leave until he had a promise from Rachel she'd call him the next day. Now she was sitting out on the deck, thinking. She heard the backdoor open, didn't look up when Phil sat down beside her.

"Mom's very proud of the fact she didn't have to call law enforcement tonight," Coulson said.

"Who needs them when we have you and captain fantastic at the dinner table?" Rachel said.

"And your Thor lookalike," Coulson said.

"You noticed?" Rachel said.

"How could I not?" Coulson said. "Are you really going to give him a chance?"

"I don't know," Rachel said. "I don't know what I want."

"It's not about what you want at this point," Coulson said. "It's about what you need, or doing the right thing. If you don't love the man, let him know. If you do love him, that's too precious to waste. Rachel, what happens happens. There are no certainties in this life. I know."

"Which of your failed relationships are you referring to?" Rachel asked.

"Neither," Coulson said. "I am only going to say this once—you've seen my scars, you and I both know I probably shouldn't be alive, but I am. Actually, for a few moments, I wasn't alive. But I'm here now. That was enough to make me reevaluate a few things in my life, like what kind of risk was I willing to take to get what I really wanted? Steve and I were barely friends, and we took a chance. It scared the hell out of both of us at first, there are times I still can't believe we're together, but we were both willing to take that chance on each other, for one another. It hasn't been easy, but it's been worth it."

"You really love him, don't you?" Rachel said.

"I do," Coulson said.

"Have you told him?" Rachel asked.

"Not really," Coulson said.

She smacked him on the arm. "Damn it, tell Steve or I will kick your ass," Rachel said.

"I will if you give Kelly another chance," Coulson said. "You're being damn stubborn and stupid. You'd really deny him the chance to see his daughter?"

"No," Rachel said. "I've just been so confused about this. . ."

"Well, get unconfused," Coulson said. "Do what you have to to get this worked out. Call him tomorrow. This not negotiable. Just talk. That's all. You're not agreeing to the rest of your life, but in way, you already have that tie because you're having his baby. Are we good?"

"Yeah," Rachel said. "I'll call him in the morning. And I have a question—how the hell did you land someone so perfect?"

"Steve is not perfect," Coulson said. "Not even close. . .well, sometimes, but that's beside the point. He hogs the covers, he's stubborn, questions orders, eats like a starving horse, has an unhealthy fondness for gambling, he's deathly afraid of zombies. . ."

"Zombies? Seriously, Phil?"

"A couple of our co-workers decided it would be fun to invite Steve over for a "Walking Dead" viewing marathon and it did not end well," Coulson said, hoping he would not have to elaborate. He remembered that night all too well—the call from Banner saying Rogers had locked himself in Stark's bathroom and refused to come out.

"Mom still hasn't forgiven me for the zombie thing at Thanksgiving," Rachel said. "Shay still thinks it was hilarious."

"Anna was offended," Coulson said.

"That should've been a tip-off she wasn't the right one for you," Rachel said. "Is Steve offended by jokes like that?"

"Considering what we have to deal with at work, no," Coulson said.

"Good," Rachel said, putting an arm around her brother. "I'm glad you're here. I've missed you, and I'm sorry if I've been a bitch. Baby hormones, Mom, Kelly, the offer they made me at work. . ."

"Em told me about it," Coulson said. "Full-time. More money. That's a good thing."

"I might take it," Rachel said.

"Good," Coulson said. "I've missed you, too."

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Coulson was cold. Not unusual, considering he had none of the covers on his side of the bed and the air conditioning was cranked. A pregnant Rachel plus hot weather equaled getting frozen out of the house. Adding to it was the fact Rogers hated being cold, especially when he was trying to sleep. Coulson noted the mass of muscle beside him was wrapped in the comforter up to his nose.

"You're hogging the covers," Coulson said, poking Rogers in the ribs.

"Sorry," came the muffled reply as Rogers rolled over, unwrapping himself. Coulson resettled the covers, spooning up against Rogers. Then, of course, his phone buzzed.

"Don't answer it," Rogers said.

"It could be something important," Coulson said.

Rogers grabbed the phone off the nightstand, answering it himself.

"No. He's busy right now. Call back and leave a message. . .God damn it, Stark, it's a Saturday morning and we're on vacation. You better have the hounds of hell on your heels or another damn alien invasion coming down on your head because. . .Oh yeah? '. Save it. Good-bye."

"That was very professional," Coulson said, kissing Rogers' neck.

"I'm going to clean his clock," Rogers said, rolling over, facing Coulson. "Do I need to arrange an accident for your phone?"

"No," Coulson said, silencing him with a kiss, running his hands up the back of Rogers' shirt. He sat up, throwing off the shirt, and then found himself pinned by Coulson, and kissed hard. And for once, Rogers didn't push Coulson's hands away when he untied his pajama bottoms, and then there was a knock at the door.

"Breakfast is in 10."

"Almost to third base," Rogers muttered.

Coulson kissed him, hands trailing over the muscles of his chest and then his flanks, enjoying the noises Rogers was making. But he broke it off.

"It is a Saturday, and we are on vacation," Coulson said.

"Staying at your mom's house," Rogers said. "Awkward."

"C'mon, let's go eat before Rachel breaks out the frozen marbles again," Coulson said.

Rogers sighed, throwing off the covers, trying to find his shirt. Damn. He watched Coulson pick up his Army shirt and put it on.

"I need a shirt," Rogers said.

"No you don't," Coulson said. "I want to see if Rachel can make it through breakfast without choking when she sees you shirtless."

"Showing me off?" Rogers asked, crossing his arms.

"Maybe," Coulson said. "Does it really matter? Or maybe I want to see you without a shirt. Does that work for you?"

"What about your mom and Emily?"

"They won't take offense," Coulson said. "I know I won't."


	12. Chapter 12

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Rachel's eyes weren't on her breakfast or the morning paper. She was stealing glances at Phil's shirtless hottie over the edge of the paper.

"Rach, you might want to put your eyes back in your head before they pop completely out," her mother said. "What happened to your manners?"

"They're still in bed," Rachel said. "Along with the parts of me pining for caffeine. God, I can't wait until this kid is born so I can have some real coffee."

"At least you have a free pass to eat all the donuts you can stand," Coulson said.

"My doctor is watching my weight like a hawk," Rachel said. "I've already gained a little too much weight, thanks to my fondness for pastries."

"Something you and Phil have in common," Rogers said.

"Can he still not pick between powdered and chocolate?"

"He always buys a package of each," Roger said. "Or takes both every morning at work."

"And Phil said you're the one that eats like a starving horse," Rachel said.

"I have a really fast metabolism," Rogers said.

"No kidding," Eileen said. "Who's going to volunteer to get groceries this weekend?"

Neither of her children volunteered, so Eileen picked. "Phil, you can go to the grocery store for me, won't you? Take Em with you. It'll give her something to do today besides spend the day on the couch watching cartoons. And Rachel, don't forget, you're calling Kelly today, or else."

Coulson shot his sister a feral grin. She almost missed it. Oh, how he loved it when their mother threatened Rachel. She flipped him off where their mother couldn't see it, but Rogers sighed.

"Cupcake, tell me you're never tempted to tell Phil off," Rachel said. "Or worse."

"Oh, he has," Coulson said.

"Really?" Rachel asked, her respect for Steve going up even more.

"But he's not the worst I have to deal with on a daily basis," Coulson said.

"Hardly," Rogers said, reaching over, picking up Coulson's phone as it buzzed, answering the call. Stark, again.

"Captain Rogers. . .I already told you. . .No. No. I don't want to know. It's called plausible denial. Keep putting stuff up on facetube and I can't help you. Leave us the hell alone for one day. Don't contact us again unless the circumstances meet the stipulations in your earlier call. . .Bored? Go play with Banner in the lab. Are Natasha or Clint around? Oh. At least someone has some sense. NO. I don't want to hear it. WHAT? No. . ."

The call dropped, Rogers set the phone down. It buzzed again, with a photo message. Of Loki the cat, being held by Director Fury while he was looking menacing on the bridge of the helicarrier. It buzzed again.

"Why is Loki with Director Fury?" Rogers asked. "Don't antagonize her, and it's not a problem. She's a baby, and you probably upset her. I don't care about the shots and stitches you had to get. You undoubtedly deserved it. Loki's going to be the one needing shots, considering the things you've done. . .yes, I'm going there. No. If you do, I won't stop Phil this time. I'll let him do more than tase you. You said it, not me. Remember who you're dealing with. No, that's not a threat or a promise. It's called a statement of fact. You're supposed to be a genius, but you sure as hell can't take a hint. Nope. . .OK. Bye."

Rogers handed Coulson his phone, the photo of Loki with Fury still on the screen. "He's letting her stay in his office," Rogers said. "For biting the consultant."

"Who is Loki?" Eileen asked.

"Phil's cat," Rachel said.

"Why do you have a cat?" Eileen said.

"More like a half-grown kitten at this point," Coulson said. "She was a gift. I did not name her."

"Loki was the lunatic who tore up New York," Eileen said. "Why would you name your pet after someone like that?"

"I told you, I did not name her," Coulson said. "It just stuck."

"Hey Mom, speaking of strange stuff, did you know Phil has a picture of himself with Tony Stark on his phone?" Rachel said.

"What?" Eileen said, rounding on her son. "You met Tony Stark?"

Rogers noted the slightly wild look in Coulson's eyes—it was as close to panic as he'd seen the man get since the beginning of their relationship.

"Mom thinks Tony Stark is sexy," Rachel said. "Phil, show Mom the picture. Just that one, because I know anything else is like a breach of security or something."

Rogers covered his face with his hand.

"When did you meet Tony Stark?" Eileen asked again.

"New Mexico, about a month ago. It was at a conference," Coulson said, scrolling through the pictures on his phone, trying to find a picture of himself and Stark without Thor. There were none excluding the god of thunder, so he just picked a random one that didn't have Stark flipping off the camera, showing it to his mother. He flashed it up, covering Thor's face with his thumb.

"See? Not that interesting," Coulson said.

"Why do you have Stark by the collar of his shirt?"

"Can't talk about it," Coulson said.

"And who's the other person in the picture?" Eileen said, prying the phone out of her son's hand. She took a good look, and Coulson barely registered the startled look on her face as she handed the phone back. Eileen met his gaze, holding it a moment. She squeezed his shoulder.

"What's wrong, Mom?" Rachel asked.

"Nothing," Eileen said. "I just can't believe your brother met Tony Stark and didn't tell us."

"Figures," Rachel said, watching Rogers retreat from the table. Their mother went into the living room, taking her breakfast and coffee to go watch TV with Emily.

"Damn it Phil, Steve isn't perfect? Why don't you have him handcuffed to the bed?" Rachel asked.

"As much as I'd like to do as you suggest, we both have important jobs," Coulson said.

"Hell, I bet Shay would let me and Em bunk over a night or two, and I could call Aunt Hattie and have her convince Mom she needs to come back so you two can have some alone time," Rachel said. "I bet it's hard to find time together, isn't it?"

"Almost impossible," Coulson said. "And thanks for the suggestion, but it's not necessary."

"My ass," Rachel said. "Let me know if you change your mind. And don't forget—you need to tell Steve about that thing we discussed last night."

"Tell me what?" Steve asked, walking into the kitchen, wearing a Brooklyn Dodgers t-shirt and grey cargo pants, barefooted, hair still wet from his shower.

"If you don't tell him, I will tase you," Rachel said, standing. She reached up, kissing Rogers on the cheek. "I don't know what he did to deserve you, but I'm happy for you two. Phil, don't screw up."

"What was that all about?" Rogers asked.

"I think my sister just gave us her stamp of approval," Coulson said. "And you and I need to talk later. I need to go shower and change."

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Rogers sat on the couch with Emily, showing her some new sketches. Eileen was sitting in an arm chair across from them, glancing his way occasionally, looking like she was deep in thought. Rogers shrugged it off. Phil got that way sometimes, and now he knew where he got the habit. Emily was watching Scooby-Doo. He was trying hard not to watch. He enjoyed it. It was one of the few shows he could get Banner, Stark and Barton to agree on. Hell, all of his fellow Avengers liked it. That and the zombie show. He still needed to pay Stark back for that one. And at least Coulson was finally ready to go. He was coming down the stairs, glaring at his phone.

"What?" Rogers asked, giving his sketchbook to Emily.

"He called again," Coulson said.

"Do I want to know why?"

"No," Coulson said. "Mom, do you have a grocery list?"

"I'll get it and some money for you," she said.

"Mom, I can pay for. . ."

"You're a guest, and you're not paying for anything," she said.

"Whatever," Coulson muttered. "Em, are you coming?"

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot," she said, joining her uncle and Steve.

Eileen came back a few minutes later, handing her son the grocery list and the cash for groceries.

"Have fun," she said, shoving her son out the door.

It shut behind them.

"It's nice of you to do this for your mom," Rogers said.

"She always makes me get the groceries when I come to visit," Coulson said. "She's just glad she doesn't have to do it. I bet she's going to go sit down on the couch and watch a week's worth of soap operas in one sitting. Am I right, Em?"

"Yeah," Emily said. "Mom'll watch it with her if she doesn't go over to Shay's. It's a stupid show. I'd rather go with you two anyway."

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Eileen sat down on the couch, trying to get comfortable, noticing she was sitting on the book Emily left on the couch. She got up, picking up the book, firing up the DVR, but she hit "pause," curious as to what was in the book, which interested Emily so much. Em loved books, but she was picky, and had to be careful what she read around her mother. Eileen flipped open the book. It was a sketchbook, obviously not belonging to anyone in her immediate family. A close inspection of the drawing on the first page was signed "Steven G. Rogers." Interesting drawing, too. A sketch of one of the creatures the newspapers called sky whales from the attack on New York. Other drawings of fantastical creatures, aliens and people. Some of the people she'd also seen on the news and the Internet. Like Thor. Interesting, that, and the fact he was in the picture on Phil's phone. Either it was Thor in the picture with Phil and Tony Stark, or Kelly Thorresen had a twin. Eileen knew Kelly had an older brother, his only sibling. Kelly looked so much like Thor it was breath-taking.

Then there was Steve. So charming, polite and respectful. He'd called himself a captain on the phone that morning. He looked young to have achieved that rank, but it wasn't impossible. And Phil was with Steve. She had no clue who Phil was bringing home with him. She'd just assumed it was some new woman he wanted to spring on them. Eileen was unprepared the other night when she witnessed her son and the other man making out, but as she'd told Rachel, she was over it. Mostly. She thought she knew both of her children better than anyone else, but sometimes, like now, they surprised her. Phillip, her quiet, stoic, dependable son had completely thrown her for a loop.

He had a cat named Loki, was living with Steve, and seemed more relaxed than he had in ages. (Rachel had remarked he still had a stick up his ass, but he seemed happy.) Still wound tight, but it was different now, probably Steve's doing. She wanted to know more about him, but it would probably take an act of God and Congress to get anything out of Phil about him. His ability to keep his silence made him very good at his job, but terrible for his mother to ferret anything useful out of him. She didn't want to pry. She was just curious. There was a difference, despite what her children thought. And she was no fool. There was something strange going on, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.


	13. Chapter 13

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Grocery shopping. A normal, mundane task, but why did he feel like he was walking into a bad situation, Coulson reflected. Maybe it was the combination of near-misses out in the parking lot trying to find a space and the busy store. He made a note to himself not to go shopping for groceries on a Saturday when he came home. His mother always did it on purpose—at least that's what he suspected, trying to remove a shopping cart from the corral. It wouldn't budge. Rogers just grabbed another, pulling it out.

"You're not going to give me half the list, are you?" Emily asked.

"Why would I do that?" Coulson asked.

"Mom thinks it makes the shopping go faster," Emily said.

"Your mother isn't the most efficient person on the planet," Coulson said.

"She said you need to learn how to relax," Emily said. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you, though."

"Thank you, I think," Coulson said. "Let's get this over with."

He lead the charge into the store, Emily and Rogers following. Next time, he was going to bribe his sister to do the shopping. And an hour later, Coulson's resolve was stronger than before. Rogers and Emily kept sneaking items into the cart. Nothing major, just snack food in Rogers' case, stuff he liked or Coulson's own favorites. Emily hadn't put as much in, also snacks but she'd added a few comic books. Why couldn't anybody stick to the mission? Get what was on the list and get the hell out of the store. Coulson kept hoping he wouldn't run into anyone he used to know. He was being paranoid, but how could people deal with this on a daily basis? The market was worse than a casino. Give him a nice firefight or alien invasion any day. Or one of Stark's temper tantrums.

Rogers noticed the far away look on Coulson's face, tapping him on the shoulder.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Fine," Coulson said. "Let's get out of here."

"No kidding," Rogers muttered, turning toward the checkout.

And of course, the lines were long, and no new lanes were opening. Rogers and Emily were talking about "The Wizard of Oz" and Coulson was trying to ignore the woman in line ahead of them. She kept staring. She looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. Then he couldn't ignore her when he heard his name. Damn it.

"Phil Coulson, I thought so," she said. "Marsha said you were in town, but I didn't believe her. Who the hell can believe anything she says. You don't recognize me, do you?"

"Sorry," Coulson said. "Should I?"

"Ashley Bremenkamp, well, it's Ashley Cramer now," she said. "Does that help?"

"Oh my God," he said, hugging her. "You look so different."

"You look the same, well, older, but it's good to see you," she said. "Is that Emily's little girl?"

Coulson turned around, noting his niece and Rogers were staring.

"Steve, this is Ashley, another of my high school classmates," Coulson said. "One of the good ones. Ashley, this is Steve Rogers, my uh, significant other. And yes, that's Em.

"Nice to meet you," she said, looking from Coulson to Rogers and back again. She pushed her cart up, as the line was moving. "Are you staying at your mom's? I should give her a call, have you all over for dinner and we can catch up."  
"I'd like that," Coulson said.

"I'm sure you would, considering how you dropped off the map," Ashley said. "You'll accept an invite?"  
"From you, yes," Coulson said.

"Good. I'll call Eileen and work something out," she said.

"Just a classmate?" Rogers asked.

"We dated a while," Coulson said. "My freshman year. Then she moved away."

"Dinner with one of your old girlfriends. This should be good," Rogers said.

"Well, you did say you wanted to know more about me," Coulson said.

Rogers snorted; Emily broke up the tension by handing her uncle a copy of one of the many magazines on the checkout lane. It had Tony Stark on the cover, so she figured that would be a nice distraction.

"What the hell is this?" Coulson asked, pointing. "Steve, look at this."

The headline said something about Stark selling American defense secrets to other countries. Completely bogus, considering the quality of the publication, but a matter Coulson would have to deal with when he was back at work.

"Garbage," Rogers said, ripping the magazine out of Coulson's hands and stuffing it back it in the rack. "What was it you wanted to talk with me about? What's so important?"

"Something," Coulson said, starting to throw their groceries on the conveyor belt.

"That's it, just something?" Rogers asked.

"Drop it for now," Coulson said.

Rogers shrugged. He guessed he'd find out eventually.

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Eileen was flipping through Steve's sketchbook again, half-heartedly listening to Rachel ramble about Phil. It was the usual—she'd heard it all before. He was just wanting them to think he had an important job, etc. However, Rachel needed a slight reality check when it came to her brother and her own life. Eileen offered it to her daughter.

"Did you call Kelly yet?" she asked.

Rachel glared. "Yes. We're having lunch Tuesday," she said. "Happy?"

"Good," Eileen said. "And lay off your brother about his job. He loves what he does, and it makes him happy."

"But what does he do?" Rachel asked.

"He works for Homeland Security," Eileen said. "He's helping keep us safe. Isn't that enough?"

"You really believe that?" Rachel said.

"I know it," Eileen said. "You're just too blind to see what's in front of your face."

"Mom. . ."

"Don't 'Mom' me," Eileen said, setting down the sketchbook. "I'm serioius."

Rachel made a grab for the book, but her mother snatched it back.

"I don't think you're ready for what's in this," Eileen said.

"What are you talking about? It's just Steve's sketchbook," Rachel said.

Yes. Just a sketchbook filled with faces and things they probably weren't supposed to know about. Or maybe Phil's very artistically talented boyfriend had an overactive imagination. But something didn't click. Steve looked incredibly young to have attained the rank of captain. She believed the bit about art school and the army, but there was something else. Steve was polite and courteous in a way Eileen had not experienced in ages. Time in the service could do that, but in a way, but he was what Rachel would call "old school." Just another riddle in the mess that was Phil's life. Tony Stark, Thor, and a young man that seemed like a relic of another time. Maybe that was part of Phil's attraction to Steve because anything else was impossible.


	14. Chapter 14

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Eileen stood on the porch, holding the door open for Steve and Phil as they hauled groceries into the house. Emily trailed after, carrying her own small load.

"Have fun?" Eileen asked as Phil traipsed by. He glared, she ignored it, following them into the kitchen, stopping to grab Steve's sketchbook on the weay.

She watched her son and Steve put away groceries, Emily helping by emptying the sacks. A nice little system they had worked out, but Steve needed his book back before Rachel had a chance to peek in it.

"You left this in the living room," Eileen said, handing him his sketchbook.

"Thanks," Rogers muttered, ignoring the scathing glance Coulson was giving him.

"You're a very talented artist," Eileen said. "Very imaginative."

Rogers blanched, but he wasn't looking at her. Coulson was giving him his best you've screwed up and we're going to talk about it later agent look. The one that scared Hill and Stark and made Fury speechless when he saw it.

Eileen saw the look on Phil's face, swatting him on the arm. "What is wrong with you?" she asked.

Then his phone was buzzing. "I have to take this," Coulson said, heading out on to the deck.

"Always working even when he's on vacation," Eileen said. "Does he ever relax?"

"Sometimes," Rogers said.

"Except your work never waits, does it?" Eileen said, stepping up, taking Phil's place putting things away. "You're both dedicated to your jobs, aren't you, and each other, right?'

"Very much so, ma'am," Rogers said.

"That's how you attained the rank of captain so young?" Eileen asked.

She noticed how Steve's breath hitched as she asked.

"Luck, dedication and hard work," he said.

"How long were you in the army?"

"Long enough," Rogers said.

"Where did you serve?" Eileen said.

"I can't really talk about that," he said.

"Special forces?"

"Something like that," Rogers said, wishing she'd just drop it.

"Gram, can we go to the library?" Emily asked, breaking into the conversation

"In a bit," Eileen said, her train of thought broken.

Rogers sighed in relief, using the break in her questioning to ask one of his own.

"Phil was wondering about his dad's old car," he said. "Sorry to change the subject, but he was talking about it the other day, and I don't think he had the nerve to ask you about it."

"Give me a minute," Eileen said, leaving the kitchen.

Rogers turned to Emily. "Em, I owe you," he said.

She shrugged. "Gram's nosy, but she means well," Emily said.

"Like your mom?"  
"Yeah," Emily said. "But Gram's coming back."

Eileen returned a few moments later with two sets of keys and a piece of paper with an address on it, pressing all three items into Rogers' hands.

"The address is where the storage unit is," she said. "I don't know if you can get that thing running or not, but Phil's welcome to it. I should've given it to him a long time ago. Em, come on. Let's go."

Rogers waited until Coulson came back inside, stuffing his phone in his back pocket.

"Everything OK?" Rogers asked.

"For now," Coulson said.

"Anything I need to worry about?" Rogers said.

"No. Just settling something between Sitwell and Hill. She said he didn't turn in a report on time, but she's the one who misplaced it," Coulson said.

Rogers walked over, snatched Coulson's phone out of his pocket, picking up his own sketchbook. "I'll be back in a minute," he said, running upstairs, returning a few minutes later, throwing the keys to their rented Mustang at Coulson. "C'mon. There's something we have to go take care of."

"I need my phone," Coulson said.

"It's in my suitcase along with my sketchbook," Rogers said, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him out to the car. "The world, SHIELD, Stark, and everyone else can do without bothering you for an hour or two."

They got in, and Rogers handed Coulson the slip of paper with the address on it. "Go here," he said.

Fifteen minutes later, they were standing out side the storage unit, Coulson frowning at Rogers as he unlocked the door to the unit.

"What are we doing here?" Coulson asked, standing back as Rogers opened the door, dust kicking up, and staring into the pitch black space.

Rogers shoved him inside, pointing. "That's why we're here," he said.

Coulson's eyes widened when he saw what Rogers was pointing at—his father's Mustang.

"I asked your mom about it, and she gave me the keys and the address," Rogers said. "She said the car is yours if you want it."

An hour later, with a tow from Kelly, they had the fastback back at the house, sitting in the garage. Coulson had the hood propped open, tools out, pulling the spark plugs, putting new ones in, changing the wiring. Rogers was at the nearby work bench with Emily. Coulson turned around, watching Rogers work. He was drilling holes in an old trash can lid after first taking off the handle, making the appropriate fittings for straps.

"We'll have to get some paint for this," he said, holding the lid up for Coulson to see.

"I think there might be some craft paint in the house," Coulson said.

"Mom's gonna flip when she sees it," Emily said, grinning.

"It's definitely going to be a one of a kind work of art," Coulson said. "Em, help him find the paint. Doesn't your Gram still have all those craft supplies?"

"I have the red, white and blue in my room," Emily said. "I'll go get it."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Rogers asked, smiling at Coulson. "Will Rachel really flip when she sees the shield?"

"She'll definitely say something about it," Coulson said.

And he was right. Partly. After the paint was dry, he was sitting out on the deck, watching Rogers and Emily with the shield. Rachel looked out the back door. Steve had a trash can lid, and was trying to show Emily how to throw it.

"Mom, you have to see this," Rachel said. "Steve made Emily a Captain America shield."

Eileen looked out with her daughter, watching as Steve threw the shield, and it bounced off the fence.

"He's pretty good with that, isn't he?" Rachel said.

Eileen nodded, going out the back door. Emily grabbed the shield, running over to her grandmother.

"I'm going to hang it on my wall," Emily said. "Can I?"

She wasn't asking her mom. She was looking at her Gram when she said it.

"I don't have a problem with it," Eileen said. "Steve, it was very nice of you to do that for Emily."

"It was the least I could do," he said. "She does like Captain America."

"I know," Eileen said. "Can I talk to you inside for a minute?"

He followed her into the kitchen, leaving Rachel and Phil alone out on the deck, watching Emily running around the yard, vanquishing invisible enemies with her shield.

"Don't you think she's a little old for that?" Rachel said, pointing at the trash can lid turned shield.

"She's just a kid," Coulson said. "Let her enjoy it while she can."

"Everyone needs something, or someone to believe in," Coulson said. "Rachel, let her have that. I know it's old-fashioned, but. . ."

"She believes in you," Rachel said. "For some damned reason. You're her hero, and you come waltzing in here with him, and she's latched onto him, too."

"Jealous?"

"No. You're not the one who has to deal with her teachers, or the other kids. . ."

"There isn't a damn thing wrong with Emily," Coulson said, rounding on his sister.

"I know. It's the other morons," Rachel said. "She's so much like you it scares me."

"She's like you, too. Stubborn, too smart for her own good, devious," he said.

"Those are traits we both share," Rachel said. "Fine. She can have the damn shield, like you can have the Mustang. Just take care of it, will you?"

"I'll have to leave it here until I can make arrangements to get it home," Coulson said.

"Just make me this promise—I get to drive it once it's drivable, and you'll teach Em to drive in it."

"I promise," he said.

"I think that's one you can try and keep," Rachel said, putting an arm around her brother.

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Rogers fidgeted, leaning against the kitchen counter. Eileen was putting dishes away.

"You looked like you know what you were doing with that trash lid," she said.

"Just imitating what I've seen on TV, ma'am," he said.

"Like I believe that," Eileen said, turning to face him, hands on hips. "You weren't home-schooled, you're not a day over 22 or 23 if I'm any judge, much too young to have reached captain in this day and age, and though you hide it well, I know there are things you just do not understand. I don't know how, but you're him, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rogers said.

"That sketchbook was the clincher," Eileen said. "That and the picture of Thor on Phil's phone. Son, do not lie to me. I know what you're hiding. You're Captain America."


	15. Chapter 15

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Oh hell. Normally he wouldn't swear, but current circumstances called for it. Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America, was nearly in a panic. He did not panic. He'd never panicked, even when he was just a skinny kid from Brooklyn getting beat up in back alleys. But this was different. This was Coulson's mother—his significant other's mother. Family. He couldn't lie to her. Then again, Phil would have his head if he found out. But he didn't have to know. Eileen dragged him inside to talk to him in private. He could do this. Really. Simple. Yeah, right.

"I am," he said.

Eileen stared at him a moment, expression unreadable, then she closed the distance between them, engulfing him in a hug, then she let him go.

"However you're here, I'm glad you and Phil found each other," she said. "My God. . .leave it to Phil. . .I won't tell anyone. You can trust me. But hurt my son and no force on this planet will be able to protect you."

"Understood, ma'am," he said.

She grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back outside, shoving Rogers toward her son. "Phil, mess up this relationship and you will answer to me," Eileen said. "I know you don't need it, but you two have my blessing."

Rachel, Coulson and Rogers watched her go back inside. "What was that all about?" Coulson asked.

Rogers shrugged.

"This has been a weird couple of days," Rachel said. "I'm going to go see what Em is up to. Hopefully not trying to build a replica of Thor's hammer in the garage."

"Mjolnir," Rogers said.

"What?" Rachel asked, giving him a funny look.

"The name of Thor's hammer is Mjolnir," Rogers said. "It's also the name of the armor the Spartans wear in 'Halo.'"

"Thank you for the trivia," Rachel said. "Figures you'd like video games. Maybe you two should have a game night with Kelly. He'd love that."

"If you're wanting us both to get to know him, does that mean you're seriously thinking about patching things up?" Coulson said.

"Yes," Rachel said. "Now you need to come through on your half our bargain. Don't forget."

"I won't," Coulson said, watching Rachel head inside.

"You are signing a non-disclosure agreement when we get home," Coulson said. "No more flashing that sketchbook around my family."

"Your mom thinks it's just a bunch of stuff I thought up," Rogers said.

"Good," Coulson said. "We don't need anyone else besides Emily knowing the truth."

"Yeah," Rogers said. "What is it Rachel says you need to tell me?"

"Something I've been waiting a long time to say," Coulson said. "Something I should've told you before now—I love you."

Rogers stared, not quite believing he'd heard correctly. "What?"

"You heard me," Coulsons said.

"Repeat it," Rogers said.

"I love you. I'm in love with you," Coulson said.

"I thought so," Rogers said. "Love you, too."

He sat down on the bench by Coulson, gently touching his cheek. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words," Rogers said.

"Too long," Coulson said, wanting to say more, but he was silenced with a kiss, and then he heard the backdoor open, and was blinded by flash of his sister's camera.

"I'm putting this moment on Facebook," Rachel said.

"Post any pictures of me on Facebook and I guarantee the results will be some of the most unpleasant you've ever experienced," Coulson said, disentangling himself from Rogers.

"Like I'm scared," Rachel said.

"Your funeral," Rogers muttered.

"I'm not scared of Phil," Rachel said. "Fine. I'll just print out the picture of you expressing your undying love to cupcake here and frame it for my wall as proof my brother actually has a heart. One more thing—tell Mom about those scars, or I will post the picture on Facebook."

"What is it with your family and blackmail?" Rogers asked.

"I don't know," Coulson said. "I'm sorry she interrupted."

"It's all right," Rogers said. "C'mon. Let's go work on that car."

Coulson stood, following him, thanking God and the universe, knowing how lucky he truly was.


	16. Chapter 16

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Rogers was in the garage with Coulson; Coulson was under the car, checking for rust, and Rogers was sitting in the driver's seat cleaning the interior. He rolled his eyes when his phone rang.

"Stark, what is it this time? No, Phil's not where you can talk to him. No, he's not handcuffed to a bedpost, and why would he be. . .NO, I do not want to hear this. . .you perverted son of a. . .I'll tell Pepper. . .Hell yes I will, you better believe it. . .no, I'm not interested, and if you e-mail me those links again, I'm sure I can arrange something, oh, I don't know, charges of misappropriation of government property? Blackmail? You bet your ass, and no, I do not have a gambling problem. I'll admit I have a gambling problem when you admit you have a drinking problem. . .yeah, so at least we understand each other. Say hi to Loki for me."

He ended the call, noticing a grease and dirt-covered Coulson staring.

"Stark again," Rogers said. "I took care of it."

"It sounds like you've been taking ruthlessness lessons from Fury and Natasha," Coulson said.

"I'm sick of being badgered by Stark all the time," Rogers said.

"At least you don't have to deal with him by yourself," Coulson said. "Like I did. Believe it or not, he has gotten better. Pepper and Banner help. And your gambling problem is nothing compared to his drinking. One thing at a time."

"I don't have a gambling problem," Rogers said, frowning. "If I do, then you have an unhealthy fondness for your taser."

"Fine, I'm guilty as charged," Coulson said as Rogers exited the car. He threw an arm around the other man. "Let's go get something to eat."

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Eileen sat in the living room with Emily, who had her astronomy book out, looking at star charts. Steve was sitting on the couch beside her, sketching; Rachel and Phil were in the kitchen doing the dishes. Eileen smiled hearing the laughter coming from the kitchen. She was glad her children were getting along so well, considering how long it had been since she last saw Phillip. She worried about him, accepted he had a job he couldn't talk about, and treasured the time when he came home. Eileen only wished Rachel could accept that, too. They were getting along, and that was all that mattered.

That Rachel gave Steve her stamp of approval also spoke volumes about how well she and Phil were getting along again. Well, her son's new relationship was good for him in ways she couldn't yet imagine. And who he was with. . .Rachel could not find out. Not that she was going to tell her, as she'd sworn to keep Steve's secret. Also, Emily was unusually content. Her granddaughter was probably going to following Phillip's footsteps, and God help them all when Rachel figured that one out. They had time yet, and possibly Emily's interests would change, but Eileen doubted that. The girl wanted to be just like her uncle, and had the sense to not say it around Rachel.

Rachel. Another thing to work on. Em was begging to go stay with Phillip in New York after the baby was born. Eileen figured it wouldn't hurt to mention it to Phil. New York would be a good experience for Em, and it would give Rachel and Kelly a chance to bond. Oh yes. She was going to work on that one.

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They were out on the deck. It was late, and hopefully no one would interrupt. Coulson's phone was still hidden in their room, and Rogers had his just in case, but if Stark called, he'd promised not to answer. They were alone together, if Rachel didn't bother them again.

"What are you thinking?" Rogers asked.

"About how nice it is to be alone with you," Coulson said.

"And not about having your way with me?" Rogers said.

"That too, but I told you, I can be patient," Coulson said, squeezing Rogers' hand. "I'm just looking forward to making up for lost time. When you're ready."

"Thanks," Rogers said.

"You're welcome," Coulson said. "Enough talk. Let's just enjoy this moment while we can. It'll be time to go back to work before you know it."

Rogers put his arm around Coulson, and the smaller man leaned into his touch, content for the moment.


	17. Chapter 17

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Sunday morning. The one day a week Coulson allowed himself to sleep in when he was able. Well, at the moment, he wasn't sleeping in. He was awake, with Rogers wrapped around him, using him like a pillow, and the comforter twisted around them, so he couldn't move. And the covers were pulled over their heads—Rogers' preferred method for sleeping. Rogers was a cuddler. Not that Coulson minded, but he preferred not suffocating while sleeping, so he tried pulling the covers down, but Rogers only moved in closer for warmth. The temperature in the house was a cool 65 degrees, thanks to Rachel. His mother had told him to suck it up and deal with it, but she wasn't the one sharing sleeping space with someone who spent more than 70 years frozen in ice.

Coulson tried disengaging himself from his companion, but Rogers wouldn't relinquish his grip. He tried turning over onto his back, which worked. Now Rogers' face was inches from his own, and giving him ideas. Not good, but he gave in anyway, kissing his bedmate, whose eyes opened in surprise.

"Good morning," Coulson said.

"Morning," Rogers muttered. "What time is it?"

"I have no idea," Coulson said. "Does it matter? It's Sunday. Have somewhere to be?"

"No," Rogers said, resting his head on Coulson's shoulder. "Don't want to move."

"That makes two of us," Coulson said. "We're probably on our own for breakfast. Rachel said something last night about my mom going to visit my aunt today, and Rachel is probably sleeping in, too."

"What about Emily?"

"Probably downstairs with a book, cartoons and Pop Tarts," Coulson said.

"Those things are nasty and unhealthy," Rogers said.

"It doesn't stop Thor, does it? I've seen you eating the cinnamon variety when you think no one is looking," Coulson said.

"All right, I do like those," Rogers said. "And I can trust you to not tell Thor I was the one who ate his Pop Tarts the last time he was at the tower?"

"You let him blame it on Banner," Coulson said. "That wasn't very nice of you."

Rogers buried his face in Coulson's shoulder, laughing; Coulson ran his fingers through the other man's hair.

"I panicked," Rogers said, raising himself up on one elbow.

"You panicked. Over Pop Tarts," Coulson said.

"Hey, as you're so fond of pointing out, I'm not perfect," Rogers said. "You, however, have everyone convinced you are."

"I am not perfect," Coulson said. "Who thinks I'm perfect?"

"Stark, for one," Rogers said. "He won't admit it, but you've got him cowed."

"Anyone else?" Coulson asked, hopeful.

"Emily," Rogers said. "Me. Your biggest fans."

"The only ones that count," Coulson said. "Hungry?"

"I could use something to eat," Rogers said.

"We can always go back to bed after breakfast," Coulson said.

"I like that idea," Rogers said, disentangling himself from Coulson and throwing off the covers.

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Rachel stumbled downstairs, following the scent of waffles. It was a Sunday and usually breakfast was every man for himself at Casa Coulson. Except Phil was cooking, and muscles was shoveling down food like it was going out of style and Emily was playing with an Ipad. When did she get that, Rachel reflected, taking a seat at the table and Phil set a mug of coffee in front of her.

"This better be decaf," she said.

"It is," Coulson said. "I'm not as stupid as you believe."

Rachel snorted, taking a sip. "So, was that gadget Em's birthday present?"

"Yes," Coulson said.

"You have good taste," she said. "Now she won't steal my Kindle for star maps and reading. And we can put learning apps on it for her."

Emily grinned at her uncle, and he stepped over, ruffling her hair.

"What?" Rachel said.

"Nothing," Coulson said.

"Can we go through the box of Captain America stuff today?" Emily asked. "There's not much else to do today."

"Mow the lawn," Rachel said.

"I'll do it tomorrow," Coulson said.

"Or we can hire the neighbor kid to do it," Rachel said.

"It'll get done right if I do it," Coulson said.

"Rachel, don't argue," Rogers said. "You'll lose."

"You just have to out-stubborn him," Rachel said, smiling sweetly at her brother as he set a plate in front of her. "What, Phil, it's the truth."

He frowned, but went back to the waffle iron. "I'd be happy to go through my vintage collectibles with you, Emily," Coulson said.

"Junk," Rachel muttered, smiling behind her coffee mug.

"Priceless, irreplaceable World War II memorabilia," Coulson said, snapping his sister in the shoulder with a dish towel.

"Junk grandma didn't know what to do with," Rachel said. "So she gave it to you and said it was priceless."

"Some of that 'junk' is from our grandfather's military career," Coulson said.

"That's not junk," Rachel said. "Your kid stuff, on the other hand. . ."

"Time out," Rogers said. "I think we get the picture. Did you ever stop and think you're hurting Phil's feelings talking about his stuff that way? It's important to him."

"I understand how important it is," Rachel said. "You didn't have to put up with it growing up. It's one of the things we agreed on that I can tease him about in public."

Rogers frowned, looking at Coulson. "You're kidding, right? You did not negotiate something like that," he said.

Coulson shrugged. "It was the only way to keep her from bringing up much more embarrassing adolescent memories," he said.

"Your family is not normal," Rogers said.

"Thank you," Rachel said. "That's the nicest compliment I've heard about our family in ages. Welcome to the family, cupcake."

Coulson squeezed his shoulder, sitting down beside him with his own plate.

"Mrs. Pratt gossiping again?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," Rachel said. "Talking about how abnormal we are—me having a kid out of wedlock and you with your boyfriend."

Rogers choked on his waffle, and Coulson blanched.

"In this day and age she's going on about that?" he asked. "We need to end this once and for all."

"Got any ideas?" Rachel said. "Anything that won't get us arrested?"  
"The trick is not getting caught," Coulson said. "Haven't you learned anything?"

"We could always take the pictures of Mrs. Pratt spying and show them to the police," Emily said.

"Official channels would work, but it's not nearly as effective," Coulson said.

"No," Rogers said. "You are not waging war on the neighbors."

"Steve, the woman's daughter propositioned you. With money. Do you know what that's called, legally? Solicitation," Coulson said.

Rogers blushed red.

"Let's discuss this later," Rachel said. "I'm going back to bed for a while. Em, going to watch TV?"

"Yeah," Emily said, picking up her things, heading into the living room.

"Are you out of your mind?" Rogers asked. "No, don't tell me, I know the answer, and it's yes."

"The woman needs to be taught a lesson," Coulson said. "She's always badgering my mother, and the other neighbors. It's for the good of the community."

"And you're delusional," Rogers said.

"You love me in spite of it," Coulson said.

"Yes, but Phil, you can't be serious," Rogers said.

"Steve, drop it," Coulson said, grabbing him by the hand. "Rach had the right idea. We can continue this discussion later."

Roger sighed, letting Coulson drag him upstairs.


	18. Chapter 18

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

No cell phones, gadgets or crisis of the moment to bother them. Just a day of nothing to do, with each other, and all day to do it. Rogers was content. Well, past content. Happy, spooned against Coulson, arms wrapped around the smaller man, with the covers pulled up over their heads. As happy as he could be with a sense of impending doom because of Coulson's preoccupation with getting even with the neighbors. He was going to do something about it, but what? It was a neighborhood feud that had been going on a long time. Maybe it only escalated when Phil was home? He'd have to ask. If that was the case, he'd let it go. If not, well, maybe there was something to be done.

Rogers sighed, and he heard a muffled "what?" from beside him.

"Just thinking," Rogers answered.

"Stop thinking," Coulson said, knowing it was Steve-speak for worrying.

"You are not starting a war with the neighbors," Rogers said.

"She started it, and won't let it go," Coulson said.

"Phil, you need to let it go, and maybe she will, too," Rogers said.

Coulson rolled over so he was facing the other man. "I've tried," he said.

"Try harder," Rogers said. "I've never seen you this unsettled over anything. Is it just coming home, or the neighbors or what?"

"All of it," Coulson said, closing his eyes. "Welcome to the Coulson family version of normal."

"It seems pretty normal to me," Rogers said. "Compared to our normal."

"The lines are blurring," Coulson said. "My 12-year-old niece deduced you're Captain America, a potential breach of national security. My baby sister is carrying a child that has a high probability of being a relative of Thor."

"Don't forget you're dating Captain America," Rogers offered.

"I'm living with the man who is Captain America," Coulson said. "No. Not normal at all."  
"Who is, though?" Rogers asked, kissing Coulson.

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Mid-afternoon, Rogers found himself in bed by himself. He sighed, grabbing some clothes that looked like they hadn't been worn more than once, throwing them on, going downstairs. Emily pointed him out toward the garage, where he found Coulson and Rachel. Coulson was under the hood of the Mustang working, and Rachel was sitting nearby in a lawn chair.

"We could mow a crop circle into their backyard," Rachel said, grinning at the frown her brother gave her.

"What's a crop circle?" Rogers asked.

"How can you not know what a crop circle is?" Rachel said. "C'mere, Steve, I'll show you."

She searched on her phone, finding pictures, showing them to Rogers.

"Designs in fields, so what?" he said.

"Nobody knows how they got there," Rachel said.

"Pranksters," Coulson said. "Don't start with the conspiracy theories."

"I won't," Rachel said. "I know how it makes your blood pressure shoot up. I still like the crop circle idea, though."

"We might as well pour bleach in the yard and kill the grass," Coulson said.

"That might work," Rachel said. "Can we write words, though? Some helpful advice or something?"

"We could have her disappeared," Coulson said. "That works for me."

"Like a hit or something? Phil, that's just stupid and illegal," Rachel said.

"I never said anything about hiring someone," Coulson said.

"No hits, no disappearances, no weapons, harmful chemicals or any other stupid suggestions," Rogers said. "Phil, you are not dragging your pregnant sister into a war with the neighbor."

"I'm pregnant, not incapacitated," Rachel said.

"Phil's good judgment is what's incapacitated," Rogers said. "I forbid this."

Rachel and Coulson gave him an identical look—the expression Phil always presented him when he thought he was full of crap.

"Sparky, you better watch what words come out of your mouth next," Rachel said. "Phil's tased people for less."

Rogers sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. He had a choice, one he didn't like, but he'd do it anyway.

"Fine. I'll help, but like I said, no weapons, disappearing, or hits. Got it?"

Coulson smiled, clapping him on the back. "Glad you see things my way," he said. "So, have any ideas?"


	19. Chapter 19

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Coulson sat with his niece in the living room, his old box of Captain America memorabilia set on the coffee table in front of them. Emily flipped through a comic book, setting it aside, reaching for another. Coulson smiled at Emily, and she grinned back.

"Lots of memories in that box," he said. "Your great-grandpa Max gave me a lot of the things in there."

"It's not junk, no matter what Mom says," Emily said. "Family heirlooms?"

"Right," Coulson said. "Where is your mom, anyway?"  
Emily shrugged, grabbing a stack of Captain America cards out of the box, gently untying the string wrapped around them, and laying them out on the table.

"Is she in the kitchen with Steve?" Coulson asked.

"I don't think so," Emily said. "Want me to go check?"

"No, I'll do it," he said.

"Think she's planning something for Mrs. Pratt?" Emily said.

"A pre-emptive strike?" Coulson said. "I hope not. Rachel is better at helping carry out an attack rather than planning it."

"Should you be having this conversation with your niece?" Rogers asked, walking into the living room, arms crossed. "Rachel's outside, staring over the fence. Want me to go get her?"

"No," Coulson said.

"We could plant some seeds in the neighbor's yard," Emily said. "Pumpkins would be nice. Or put cat food in the front yard?"  
"Not bad," Coulson said. "Juvenile, but I like it. Where did you come up with those?"

"Gram mentioned it once," Emily said.

"Your mother's in on this?" Rogers said.

"Gram's never done anything, at least not that I know of," Emily said. "She's wanted to, though."

"Steve, close your mouth before you swallow a fly or something," Coulson said.

Rogers sat down beside Coulson on the couch. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Maybe," Coulson said.

"What will it take?"

"I'll let you know," Coulson said.

Then Rogers' phone was ringing, and he answered it. "Banner? Why the hell are you calling? No. . .is Loki. . .OK, good. She's still with Fury? He's taking good care of her? That's a relief. . .No, I'm not telling you where we are, no, I'm not telling you why I was asking about pregnancy, I know how that all works, I don't need a refresher, and if you don't drop it, wait. . .did Stark put you up to this? How much? Is he insane? I know you're not a psychologist. . .but you're a medical doctor, don't you have a professional opinion or something? NO. Bruce, c'mon. . .I'll tell Clint who it really was that. . .Oh yeah? Yes, I'm capable of blackmail. Not a threat, but a promise. OK. Thanks. See you next week."

"What did he want?" Coulson asked.

"Tony bet him he couldn't find out where we are," Rogers said.

"Obviously Stark doesn't have enough to occupy his time," Coulson said. "We'll have to do something about that once we get home."

"He owes me a few rounds," Rogers said.

"Training would be a perfect way to fill up his schedule," Coulson said.

"It'll be fun," Rogers said.

"What'll be fun?" Rachel asked, walking into the room.

"Nothing," Coulson said. "What are you doing?"

"I came to see what you guys want for dinner," Rachel said. "Kelly's coming over, and he said he'd buy take-out for us. I'm taking him up on it."

"Chinese," Coulson said.

"Italian," Emily said.

"Not Chinese," Rogers said. "I'll be hungry in five minutes."

"Chinese it is, cupcake," Rachel said.

"You're evil," Rogers said. "Making your fellow buy us dinner. We can fend for ourselves."

"I'm not making Kelly do anything he doesn't want to," Rachel said. "He's being nice."

"Or trying to get back into your good graces," Coulson said.

"Phil, shut up," Rachel said. "He's bringing over his Xbox so you guys can play Halo. Em, no swearing when you play, and Steve, if you mention one more time Kelly looks like Thor. . ."

"He does," Rogers muttered.

"Yeah," Emily said, earning a glare from her mother. "What if Kelly is a relative of the real Thor? The Avenger?"

"Em, stop right there," Rachel said. "Not possible."

"His last name means 'son of Thor," Emily said. "I looked it up, and Steve said the same thing."

"Yeah, just like Coulson is 'son of Coul,'" Rogers said, smiling at Coulson.

"Em, the whole Thor thing is a publicity stunt, it has to be," Rachel said.

"Mom, I feel sorry for you," Emily said, burrowing into her uncle's side. Coulson hugged her as she glared at her mother.

"What do you mean by that?" Rachel asked. "Phil, you're giving her ideas again, aren't you? Going through that box of. . .stuff"

"I'm not giving Em any ideas," Coulson said. "She's perfectly capable of reaching her own conclusions."  
"Conclusions about what? A bunch of vigilantes?" Rachel stopped when she saw the look in her brother's eyes—the steely gaze that scared the hell out of her. And Rogers was white. What the hell was going on? "A bunch of vigilantes who saved New York, and probably the planet. I didn't mean that being vigilante in this case was a bad thing, Phil. It's good. Calm down."

Emily hugged her uncle a little tighter, and Rogers placed a hand on Coulson's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He relaxed, just a little. Rachel really needed to learn when to keep her mouth shut.


	20. Chapter 20

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Rachel watched as Kelly played "Halo" with Phil, Emily and Steve. Phil was enjoying himself way too much, shooting enemies in the head while Emily followed his lead. Steve and Kelly were struggling against Team Coulson. Not surprising, considering the time Phil spent as a sniper in the Army. She wasn't supposed to know about that, but he'd let it slip one night when he'd come home from leave once while they were drinking out in the garage while their parents were gone.

Emily giggled each time confetti popped out of a dying alien's head, ah, the sound of her daughter's happiness. It was. . .nice. It felt like they were one big, sappy family. Em was happy, Steve was fitting in like he belonged and Phil seemed like he accepted Kelly, and wait, what? Damn the men for closing ranks on her. If she didn't know better, she'd swear her mother, brother and daughter were pushing her back toward Kelly. For once, she didn't mind the pushing, coercing or threats. They were right. She just needed to accept that.

Then there was the matter of Phil, Steve and Emily acting like they had a secret or something. It was probably first ever gathering of the Captain America worship chapter of Ohio with the three of them together, but it was nagging her. Phil was probably being oversensitive about his undying fanboy love of the First Avenger and her jabs about his job. She knew she needed to back off, but she didn't get many opportunities to needle her brother like she used to. No matter his job, or how old they were, they were still siblings, she loved him, and she wasn't going to let him forget it. She smiled, looking over at her brother.

He looked over, giving her a brief glare before turning his attention back to the game. "What?" he snapped.

"Having fun?" Rachel asked.

"Does it look like I'm not?" Coulson said.

"I know you are. Just making sure," Rachel said. "We still need to have a confab about the neighbor."

Roger sighed, setting down his controller, drawing the game to a momentary halt.

"Not that again," he said.

"What?" Kelly asked, interested.

"Mrs. Pratt's being a pain again," Emily said, capping another grunt in the head, earning a fist-bump from her uncle.

"We're trying to come up with a solution to the problem," Coulson said. "Unfortunately, no one likes my ideas."

"The only one that doesn't agree is Steve," Rachel said. "Personally, I like your idea. It's just not legal."

"Vandalism and harassment aren't legal either," Rogers said.

"That woman has been harassing us for years," Coulson said.

"Maybe she's just lonely, or doesn't enough going on in her life. . ."

"Don't defend that harpy, Steve," Coulson said.

"Phil. . ."

"Don't 'Phil' me," Coulson said.

Kelly had heard enough. "That lady isn't very nice, and her daughter is. . .well, I can't say it in front of polite company."

He shot Rachel a look as he said it.

"She's a bitch," Rachel said. "There."

Rogers frowned, but Coulson ignored it. "She is," he said. "Rachel is correct. The woman is a menace."

"Definitely," Kelly said.

"Welcome to the family," Coulson said, reaching across and offering Kelly a hand. "Rach, you made a good choice. Don't let him get away."

Great. Phil was offering his stamp of approval. She didn't need it, but she was happy for it, except she wasn't telling him that. Yet.


	21. Chapter 21

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Rogers woke due to the cold, and lack of a warm body wrapped around his own. Coulson wasn't in bed. The super soldier kicked off the covers, leaving the bedroom, heading downstairs, cursing to himself. Maybe Phil couldn't sleep. Yeah, right. No Coulson in the living room, or kitchen. Outside was an option, so Rogers looked out the backdoor, seeing Coulson standing on tiptoe, staring over the gate. He opened the door, walking across the lawn, joining his partner.

"I'll give you to the count of three to start explaining," Rogers said. "One. . ."

Coulson ignored him.

"Two. . .

Coulson turned around, shooting him a dirty look.

"Three. . ."

Rogers waited a few moments before grabbing Coulson, throwing him over his shoulder, hauling him back toward the house.

"Put me down," Coulson hissed through gritted teeth.

"Not until you explain what the hell you're doing out spying on the neighbors in the middle of the night," Rogers said.

"Reconaissance," Coulson said. He didn't mention the pre-emptive strike he, Kelly and Emily just finished, and he was just taking a look at their handiwork.

Rogers dumped him on the ground.

"Do I need to get Fury involved?"

"Try it," Coulson said.

"Are you out of your mind?" Rogers asked.

"You need to loosen up," Coulson said, picking himself up off the ground.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Steve, calm down," Coulson said.

"I am calm," Rogers said.

"Are not," Coulson said, grabbing Rogers by the hand. "C'mon. Let's go back inside."

Rogers let himself be dragged back upstairs to bed, annoyed, but dropped the subject of the neighbor. Maybe if he let it go, Coulson would, too.

Then it was dawn, and Rogers knew it was dawn because he was awake, with the thin, gray light of morning seeping into their room. And lips nibbled at his neck and earlobe, not an unpleasant sensation. Coulson was always frisky in the morning, and Rogers was learning to deal with it. Phil's hands on his body, making lazy circles on his lower belly, then caressing his flanks, grinding his body against his. He rolled over, facing Coulson, and the smaller man kissed him, at the same time slipping his hands under the other man's t-shirt, trying to pull it off him. Rogers broke away long enough to be divested of his shirt, and then there was someone knocking at the bedroom door.

"Phil, forks in the neighbor's yard, and you didn't let me help?" Rachel yelled.

Rogers grabbed his shirt, rolling out of bed.

"Reconnaissance?" he asked.

"Pre-emptive strike," Coulson said. "It's just forks, and some pumpkin seeds scattered across the yard. It'll be a nice surprise come fall."

Rogers rolled his eyes, put his shirt back on, heading downstairs for coffee.

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Coulson sat in the passenger's seat of his father's Mustang, telling Emily an edited version of the events in Mexico several months before. And he'd show her pictures of himself on a motorcycle.

"Don't tell your mother," he said, putting away his phone when he saw Rogers coming into the garage.

"Don't tell her mother about the forks in the neighbor's yard?" Rogers asked.

"I helped," Emily said. "Mom won't care about that. She will care if I tell her about Uncle Phil riding a motorcycle."

"Why? What's wrong with a motorcycle?" Rogers said.

"At work, Mom and the other nurses call people who ride motorcycles 'organ donors,'" Emily said.

Rogers shot Coulson a look as he climbed out of the Mustang.

"Rach thinks they're dangerous," Coulson said.

"If you don't know how to ride one," Rogers said.

"You and I both know that," Coulson said. "Nice to know you're speaking to me again. You're not going to make me go over and apologize are you?"

"No," Rogers said.

"Good," Coulson said.

"Mom'll flip if she finds out you both have motorcycles," Emily said.

"I trust you won't tell her," Coulson said.

"I won't, on one condition," Emily said.

"Which is?" Coulson asked.

Emily only grinned.

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Being blackmailed by his 12-year-old niece shouldn't have been a surprise to Phil Coulson, but for the kid, he reckoned it was more fun than asking for what she wanted. Especially when what she wanted wouldn't sit well with her mother, considering how well things had gone when he'd been in the same situation with his sister. But taking Emily out and teaching her how to drive a stick shift was fun. She'd done surprisingly well, and Steve had enjoyed himself, too.

Now, they were alone at the house as Rachel was still at work and Emily was spending the rest of the afternoon helping his mother at the bakery. Coulson was replaying video of Emily driving on his phone, when Steve walked into the living room, handing him a glass of tea.

"She's a good kid," Rogers said, sitting down by Coulson.

"The best," Coulson said. "She more than makes up for the fact I don't have kids of my own."

"But you do want them, don't you?" Rogers asked.

Coulson set down his phone. Uh oh. They hadn't had this conversation yet.

"Of course," Coulson said. "It's just that with work. . ."

"You're not going to be able to use that excuse forever," Rogers said. "Now that you're in a relationship."

"Do you want children?" Coulson shot back.

"Yes," Rogers said. "Like your mom said, we can adopt, or use a surrogate, or whatever. Yes, I do want a family. Hell, I already have the family you and SHIELD gave me when you pulled me from the ice. And you bringing me home to meet your family, you have no idea how blessed I know I am."

"Even with all the insanity?" Coulson said.

"Even with that," Roger said. "The everyday stuff is nothing compared to Tony and the rest of the Avengers, but I wouldn't trade any of it."


	22. Chapter 22

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Emily Coulson knew she was tempting fate, but she didn't care. She'd been right in guessing her Uncle Phillip was dating Captain America, and she already loved Steve, and the girl smiled as she entertained the though of what her mother would do if she ever discovered that fact. However, her mother wasn't ever going to hear that news from her. Never. _Ever_. She was sitting at the kitchen table, listening to her uncle and Steve talk while they fixed dinner. Her mom was upstairs, just home from work. Emily knew if she waited, she'd miss her window of opportunity. Asking for what she wanted at the dinner table, in front of her uncle, would likely produce the hoped-for result. Her mom wouldn't be so apt to throw a fit, either. She'd mentioned her idea to her mother, never asked for this particular thing before, but, as her Gram always said, there was a first time for everything.

Emily waited until they were all sitting down at the table and her mother was well into her rant about her day at the hospital.

"Can I go stay with Uncle Phillip instead of Dad this summer?" Emily asked.

Her mother's rant stopped.

"What?"

"I want to stay with Uncle Phillip instead of Dad for two weeks," she said.

Rachel set down her fork, gaze leveled on her brother. Phil squirmed under the stare.

"Did you put her up to this?" Rachel asked.

"No," Coulson said. "We haven't even talked about it."

"I'm sure Phil doesn't need you under foot for two weeks," Rachel said.

"Actually, Rach, it would be a pleasure to have Emily come visit," Coulson said. "I have a lot of vacation time I haven't used, and New York is full of things I'm sure Em would love to see."

"There's the natural history museum, art museums, and lots of history," Emily said, using educational opportunities to try and convince her mother it was a good idea. She kept her ulterior motives silent.

"Maybe in a couple of years," Rachel said.

"I'll pay for Emily's ticket," Coulson said. "I have a huge apartment in a new building, and have plenty of room. Hell, I'll even fly out and take her back myself."

"Gram said it's a great idea, and you need to spend time with Kelly, and get ready for the baby," Emily said.

"Your Gram put you up to this?"

"She didn't put me up to anything," Emily said. "I've wanted to go visit Uncle Phillip for a long time, and thought I should ask."

"Phil, what about that important job of yours?"

"Rachel, like I said, I have more than enough vacation time to accommodate a two-week visit with Em," Coulson said. "Steve was born and raised in Brooklyn, I spent a lot of time in the city before moving there, and I can assure you Emily will be perfectly safe with us. You just can't stand the thought of letting her out of your sight for a while, right?"

Rachel glared.

"And the kid's right. You have some things you need to sort out," Coulson said. "Do you have a room ready for the baby? Are you going to stay here with Mom, or what?"

"Butt out," Rachel said.

"Em, we'll plan on having you out in August, before school starts," Coulson said. "Barring any emergencies."

"You still have to go visit your dad," Rachel said. "You can't get out of it."

"I know," Emily said, sighing, putting her head down on the table. Bullet dodged, for the moment.


	23. Chapter 23

Domestic Tranquility

Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.

Rachel was in the kitchen, drinking coffee, leaning against the counter, staring out the back door, watching Phil play catch with Emily. She smiled, enjoying the scene. Phil was enjoying himself, and Em was so happy having him there. Maybe letting Em go to New York wasn't such a bad idea. Her daughter loved learning, and a couple of weeks of letting Phil keep up with Em would probably do him some good, give him some normal. She'd get some time to seriously thing about where her life was going, and what she should do about it. And then she heard a phone buzzing. Phil's phone. On the kitchen table. Again.

Reaching for the phone, she suddenly found her wrist in the vise-like grip of her brother's boyfriend.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Rogers chided, picking up the phone instead.

"Phil would, and has answered my phone because he's nosy," Rachel said, wresting her wrist out of Roger's grasp.

"He cares about you," Rogers said, frowning at the phone's screen before putting it in his pocket. Stark _again_. "Phil talks about you all the time. Maybe you should all come out and visit this fall, after you've had the baby."

"Shouldn't Phil be asking instead?" Rachel asked, setting her mug down, crossing her arms.

"Would it make a difference?" Rogers replied.

"Not really," Rachel said. "Emily has school, I have work, Mom has the bakery. . ."

"All excuses," Rogers said. "What is it you have against your brother, anyway? Phil's a good man."

Here we go, Rachel thought, but she answered anyway. "Nothing," she said. "Phil just has everything together in his life and I don't."

"Not everything," Rogers said. "Hardly."

"Really?"

"Really," Rogers said. Oh, he had dirt on Coulson, but he'd never admit it. Like how their relationship came to a head so quickly, how their first kiss was in Mexico, during a firefight, before they'd even had a proper date. All the little details he was now privy to, reasons he loved Coulson.

"Why aren't you out playing ball with them?" Rachel finally asked, wanting to change the subject.

"I wanted to get some sketches done," Rogers said. "Plus Phil gets to spend all the time he can with me, and he doesn't see you guys very often, so time with family wins out."

"Family means a lot to you, doesn't it?" Rachel asked.

"More than you can imagine," Rogers said.

"I'll think about coming to New York," Rachel said. "It has been a while since I've had a decent vacation. If not this fall, then a couple of weeks at Christmas. That might be fun."

Rogers smiled. "That would be fantastic," he said.

88888

Rogers lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. Coulson was unconscious beside him, drooling onto his pillow. Rogers reached for his phone on the nightstand, quickly taking a picture of his partner, hoping the flash wouldn't wake him. No such luck. Rolling back over after putting the phone back in its place, he found Coulson staring at him.

"I hope you're not going to send that picture to anyone," Coulson said

"No. Just for me," Rogers said.

"Me drooling?"

"It's proof you're human," Rogers said, trying to burrow under the covers.

"Sure," Coulson said, kicking the covers off.

"We're going to freeze to death," Rogers said.

"You can endure a little air conditioning," Coulson retorted. "Besides, there are ways to warm you up."

"Such as?"

"Continuing our quest of rounding the bases," Coulson said.

"We are not getting to third base in your mother's house," Rogers said.

"Fine. We can make out if you can't sleep," Coulson said, leaning in, kissing Rogers, but he gently pushed him away.

"It's the middle of the night," Rogers said.

"Bored, can't sleep now, so what else are we supposed to do?" Coulson said, running his hand under Rogers' shirt, then rucking it up over his head. Rogers gave in, helping him finish taking it off. He knew when he was fighting a losing battle.


End file.
